


Devoted Monster

by Zira



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: All people want to do is keep Taylor safe, Alternate Universe, Altpower, But it has some editing, Don't worry, Friends! Friends! Friends!, Gen, I'm uploading this from SB, Mastering, Now you know~, Only she's almost 18, Partial Mind Control, Secret sharing time! I have two new chapters already finished that need to be uploaded, She's baby!, So you get to know due to reading the tags!, Taylor is making all the friends, They still have their own mental facilities, This will be uploaded on Thursdays so I don't interrupt my regular fic, Vomiting, i guess, now for actual tags, this is a friendship fic!, which should be tagged as
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25750432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zira/pseuds/Zira
Summary: A Stranger is just a friend you haven't met.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 118





	1. Unlikely Savior

Taylor only truly gives up when the halls go quiet, and the light is removed from her prison. Screaming and begging didn’t work, but she now truly knows that no one is going to help her. No matter how much hope there had been for a teacher or the janitor to let her free. She didn’t do anything to deserve this! There’s no reason for why everyone ignored her and seems to hate her! She never did anything wrong! She doesn’t deserve this! She just wants to be safe and cared for!

That doesn’t seem to be happening. No one wants her. No one cares. Not even her father cares or wants her safe. Everyone thinks she’s guilty and doesn't believe her.

She is going to die here.

\--

Jolting upright from her slump, Taylor looks around in confusion and fear. Unfortunately, she realizes instantly where she is, and she has to thank her lucky stars that her nose seems to have long shut down.

She hears a sort of snuffling sound, and has to shake her head. Hallucinations, of course. She can more clearly hear the buzzing of the flies around her, so-

No, that is actually there. Snuffling and the sound of… scratching?

“Hello?” she calls, voice raspy.

There’s a pause in the scratching, and then the snuffling turns into a concentrated sniffing. There’s a voice, that almost seems to rattle her bones, “So there is a little morsel in here. All locked up, and all alone.”

“Wh-what?”

“How very lucky for me. A small snack before I return to the others.”

“Who is this?” She wishes she were facing forwards, but she’s stuck the wrong way, eyes dangerously close to the hook on the back.

There’s no answer, at least she doesn’t count the loud screech of tearing metal as one. She is pretty no sane person does.

However, all she can really feel is relief, due to finally getting out of the locker, falling back out and collapsing. Sure, there’s the filth all around her, but she still can’t really smell much of anything.

She is scooped up in a weird arm, set on her feet. She instantly falls back onto the floor. The voice says, “Now, now. Stand up. You’re out of there. I’ll make sure you won’t ever be hurt like this again.”

She blinks, “You… you will?” She turns, and freezes in terror at the sight of who freed her from her prison.

That’s Crawler.

He pats her on the top of her head with a tentacle, making her flinch, “I will. Now, how about we get you cleaned up?” She scrambles back from him, only to land heavily on her back, since her legs are nothing but painful static. Not that it does much, since he scoops her up, placing her on his back, “This is a school, so let’s get you a shower and a change of clothing.”

She’s too scared of landing badly, and too knowledgeable of how she won’t be able to run even if she manages to slide off safely. So she is carried along while Crawler talks about how he’s going to make certain nothing bad happens to her.

Soon, she’s pushed lightly into the gym showers, and he says, “Alright. You get cleaned up. I’ll find you some clothing.”

With that, she’s left alone.

She tries, again, to stand up, only to fall over another time. She’s painfully sitting up to the sound of ripping metal, and debating just crawling away when Crawler is back, holding a selection of clothes.

He stares at her, chuckles in a way that vibrates the very air in her lungs, and scoops her back up. “Need help?” She doesn’t answer, but that doesn't stop him. He uses one tentacle to turn on the water in a shower stall, and uses others to tug off her shirt. At her squeak and trying to pull it back down, he laughs again. “Don’t worry, I don’t have anything that could actually make that a problem.” He lifts up several legs, and taps firmly at the smooth scaling and carapace on his underside, “It was a vulnerability that is now long gone. I don’t have the ability to feel attraction, even. In fact, I don’t even have the ability to feel anything other than pain, and-”

He pauses, so Taylor takes this chance to push his tentacles away and keep on her shirt. Deciding to keep distracting the violent serial killer, she asks quickly, “And what?” She glances around, trying to figure out if there’s a possible way to escape while he’s distracted.

He grins at her, “You’re the first person that’s made me feel anything in forever!”

She stares at him, hearing herself asking faintly, “What did I make you feel?”

“Protective! Towards you, but still!.” He looks and sounds very pleased, “It’s pretty amazing to feel anything emotionally, since that was one of the very first things to go once that first fight damaging my head.”

“That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Patting her on the head, he says cheerfully, “I usually would be picking a fight before long, just to feel something. Maybe get something truly unique and painful!”

“Don’t… don’t do that. Please.”

“We’ll see,” he says, then tugs on her shirt while she’s distracted, removing it. “Time to get that filth off you!” He then shoves her under the water, making her sputter while also being grateful that the hot water is lukewarm at the best of times in these old showers.

And it is the best of times, temperature-wise, she’s not going to freeze.

She sputters more as she’s scooped up, her pants yanked off, thankfully leaving her bra and panties as some modesty, and he scrubs her with a fruity shampoo. She manages to stay standing as he sets her on her feet, but is unable to do much more. When he declares her clean enough, she’s tugged out of the stall, and… wrapped in a soft and fluffy towel while another dries off her hair.

He puts her in a warm set of sweat clothes, a hoodie, and some surprisingly warm boots. She glances down at them, “Are these uggs?”

“They are plenty ugly,” he agrees easily. “I couldn’t find any others that would fit you, so you get to live with it.” He scoops her up again, setting her on his back, “Alright, let’s get out of here.”

“Where are we going?” she asks, wondering if she can chance walking or running.

He pauses, thinking about it, “Well, how about we get you some food?” He walks down to the basement, managing the stairs surprisingly well, “I can’t be seen in public, so how about you tell me where your house is.”

She flinches, “Are you sure? I can just walk-”

“No, no.” He pats her head again, like she’s some sort of pet, “Now that I can feel something, I’m not giving it up.” He gets into a sort of hidden room, near the boiler, and she can see there’s a hole there. He widens it a little, only for it to crumble. He moves her so he’s holding her securely and comfortably in two tentacles, climbing down with her in front of him. “I swam in lava early on, the same as swimming deep in the ocean.” He sighs, “I wish I’d had put that off, given myself something to look forward to.”

She pats a tentacle slowly, “I’m sorry?” How else can she respond? He may be protective, but he likely won’t be if she’s too insulting.

He nods, carrying her along at what must be a fast pace, since he sniffs the air saying, “Oh, there’s a place with a person that smells a lot like you.”

She grimaces, “That’s likely my dad, please don’t hurt him.”

“That would make you upset, so I won’t.” He says something else, but she’s much too relieved to even hear it.

He starts digging in a new direction from where the tunnel is going, then pauses when Taylor doesn’t fit in front of him. He tries putting her behind him, only to move her back in front. He does this about three more times, and she finally asks, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to hurt you when I dig, but I also want you to hear me as I talk.”

She looks at him, then at the branching tunnel, “Look, your voice is deep enough I’m sure I could hear you no matter what. It isn’t like I’ll be out of your sight, right?” He has eyes all over him, so he can see everywhere.

He pauses, then nods, “Right.” He holds her behind him as he starts to dig in earnest. She _is_ pretty surprised at just how fast this is progressing. The dirt looks solid, and she’s certain there are some rocks around them from how the sound of claws going through them reverberates through the tunnel. It makes her wonder if he’s faster than a drill, but she isn’t going to be able to judge the distance due to how dark it is in here.

After a bit, she asks, “So… where are we going, then?” She wonders if her blase attitude is due to just how… tired she is. Besides, it isn’t like Crawler is going to hurt her. He’s said multiple times he wants to protect her, and he fucking cleaned her up then put her in warm clothing after. Someone that is just going to eat her would have just cleaned her up and shoved her firmly in his mouth at this point.

“Your home. I smell the man you say is your father and the house smells of you and him. I will take you there, and then we will decide what to do after that.”

“Can’t you just, like… drop me off and head off? I don’t mind if-”

“No,” he growls, making her flinch and hide in her hoodie, shaking at how dangerous he sounds. Tentacles not carrying her rub her cheek and back, his voice kinder, “You make me feel things, and that feeling is protecting you. So you will never leave my side.”

She’s too shaken to say anything about that. Not even a feeling of having tried. Honestly, she regrets even suggesting it, since how clear it is she is now forever going to be near Crawler. She … she wants to cry, but she’s had to harden her heart for so long.

She wonders if she’s forgotten her own emotions in the locker. Anything other than terror and tiredness is long gone, and she doesn’t know if she’ll get those missing feelings back.

So she just curls against the cradling tentacles holding her with care, and lets her eyes drift closed. Crawler says she will be safe, and she can’t argue.


	2. Meeting Her Father

Jolting awake to the sound of tumbling rocks, Taylor looks around in confusion. Something is holding her and she doesn't know what-

Oh… right.

She looks up at the light above them, whimpering as a chunk almost hits her, only to be flicked away by Crawler. He climbs out, and moves her back in front of him. He looks up the stairs, saying slowly, “I don’t… think those will….”

She has to nod, “Yeah, they’d break.” She looks at the floor of what she recognizes easily as the basement of her house, “Look, I can go up and be perfectly safe. I can go talk to my dad, and-”

“I will remain with you,” he cuts in decisively. He moves to the stairs, then digs his claws into the walls, moving up those to get past the steps. He places her closer to the closed door and she, almost mechanically, opens the door to let him work his way inside. He’s almost absurdly flexible, but she’s pretty sure he adapted that way for a reason. Maybe he got stuck once, and his powers made it so he can get through things?

His father stares at them, from the kitchen table, only to hop to his feet, yelling, “Taylor! Get- Get away from her!” Her dad grabs the chair, lifting it up.

Waving her arms placatingly, she shouts, “Dad! No! No! It’s okay! Crawler is…” She can’t say harmless, since that’s such a huge lie, she can’t even force the words out. She manages, unconvincingly, “He’s very kind to me.”

She seems to have persuaded him, though. Her father wavers, and stares at her for a long moment, finally setting the chair down. “Taylor!” He hurries over to her, jumping over one of Crawler’s lazily swatting tentacle, and wraps her in a hug. “Taylor, are you okay? You… I came home and you weren’t here.”

She hugs him back, holding tight as a part of her heart unclenches. Her father loves her, and cares enough to notice when she’s gone. When usually she’s lucky to see him for more than a few words across the dinner table, and never even eating breakfast together. She might usually get lucky and he tells her ‘good morning’ before leaving through the door. She clings tight as he rocks her back and forth. 

Finally, he lets her go, and she reluctantly does the same. However, it isn’t as bad as before. Crawler’s tentacles hold her with care, and it is like a hug in its own way. Thinking of it like that makes being carried ever so slightly more acceptable.

He stares at her, eyes watery with worry, “Are you hungry?”

Her stomach growls, making Crawler chuckle. The monstrous cape says, “I have already eaten, but Taylor requires food. I can smell that you have some still warming in the oven.”

Dad nods, “Right, I’ll get it for her now.” He hurries away, pulling open the oven and plating up. 

While that happens, Crawler carries her to the table, finally settling her on a chair and not holding her. He rubs his face against her, and she finally pats _him_ on the head. Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to understand she’s doing it to be sarcastic, since his body rumbles in what can only be described as a purr. She can’t even find it in her to be irritated that it backfires, just because he’s so damn happy she’s petting him. 

But it is such a soft touch, she wonders if he can even really feel it, or is just reacting how he thinks he should act. Part of her can’t find it in her to care. Not when it means she finally has someone who wants her. Wants her, and saved her, and is taking care of her. Someone that isn’t her family.

She takes one of his tentacles into her left hand, rubbing it with her thumb. The rumbling increases.

Her dad places a bowl in front of her, sausage and potato stew, and a crusty roll to dip in it. He presses a kiss to her temple, and moves to the fridge, “Want something to drink, little owl?”

“Yeah, some milk would be nice.”

He pours some for her, and sighs when Crawler says, “I’d like a bowl of something to drink.”

Her father puts down a medium sized metal bowl that is half juice and half water, saying, “I’m not giving you an entire gallon of orange juice.”

Crawler holds the bowl in a tentacle to drink it like it’s in a weird cup as Taylor eats, his purring a steady constant that makes her relax. It only seems to worry her father, though, since he is pacing around the side of the kitchen, looking at her worriedly. 

Once she finishes, her father asks softly, “Taylor… what happened?”

She’s not… sure how to best say this, since how can she explain it? She is teetering back and forth when Crawler is the one who replies, “She was shoved in a locker when I found her. She was covered in vomit and rotting menstrual blood. I took her out after smelling she was all alone in the school.”

Dad stops his pacing, looking at Crawler. He closes his eyes, looking pained, then says softly, “Thank you. You saved her. If you hadn’t, I wouldn't have known where she was all night.”

“It is my pleasure to keep Taylor safe.” Crawler runs a tentacle along her hair, patting the top of her head with caring and sensitive touch, “I will be her hibernaculum, and none shall touch her with ill intent.”

Her father holds up a hand, mouth open, then closes it. He drops his hand on the table, leaning on it, “Well…” He shrugs, “I can't argue with that. Not when Taylor so clearly trusts you.” He looks at her, eyes searching, “You do trust him?”

She nods, “I do.” It’s odd, but she does. It could be because she’s just so _tired_ , but whatever it is, this is enough for now.

He leans down, hugging her, “It’s late, let’s go to bed.”

She stands up when he breaks the hug, “Okay.” She pauses, wondering if she should push it further, since she now knows how much he cares for her, “Love you.”

He smiles, and it is like ages of grief and pain shed from his face and bearing, “Love you too, kiddo.” 

She grins back, and feels almost as if she’s floating, feet not touching the stairs, as she heads up to her room. 

Oh, she’s not touching the stairs; Crawler is carrying her. She taps his tentacles, “I’m going to the bathroom. You are _not_ following me.”

He gasps unhappily, but sets her down. She goes in, managing to grab things so she doesn’t fall over, and comes out once she’s finished, breath fresh after brushing her teeth. She almost trips over him after opening the door, only to be caught easily by his tentacles. She sighs down at him, since he’s acting like a devoted puppy or lonely cat. She can see the small scratch marks at the bottom of the door, even.

She puts her hands on her hips, “Really?”

He carries her to her bedroom, “Yes.”

Taylor frowns when he sets her in her bed, saying, “I’m not sleeping in these clothes, and absolutely not while wearing the boots.” She pauses, “...Are my shoes still at school?”

“Would you even want to keep those?”

She’s unable to find any way to argue with that, since they were old and she was planning on replacing them once she got up enough allowance for a sturdy pair. She’d then spend some time scuffing them up so they looked old and ruined, so Emma and the rest wouldn't fucking touch them.

So she just nods, removing the warm boots he gave her. After a moment, she frowns, “Alright, I’m gonna change. Either get out of the room or close your eyes.”

Crawler huffs irritably, closing his eyes, voice a deep rumble, “I told you, I don’t-”

Going through her dresser for her pajamas, she cuts him off with, “Yeah, you still aren’t watching me.” Changing is as fast as she can make it, her hands shaking violently as she struggles with her shirt. Eventually she manages to change, so she tells him he can open his eyes as she climbs into bed. 

He _tucks her in_ \- what the actual fuck - and pats her head. He adjusts the blankets to hang better as he says, “Want me to read you a story?”

She doesn't need him to fucking read her a bedtime story, but she’s honestly too damned tired to actually argue with him on something so harmless. “Yeah, go ahead.”

He drags a tentacle across her bookshelf, and pulls down one of her well loved books, and opens it in front of him. His voice is clear as he reads, “Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small, unregarded yellow sun.”


	3. Day Out With Dad

Taylor wakes in the morning to light from her window hitting her face. Blinking in confusion, she sits up, her feet hitting something. Looking down, her brain reboots, and she sighs as she suddenly remembers last night. “I gotta get to school.”

Crawler snorts, “Your father told me you aren’t going. In fact, we are taking you to a hospital, since your blood smells… off.”

“What?”

“It is that or I take you to Bonesaw, and I don’t trust her to keep you safe.”

Her brain locks up, and then she whispers softly, “Yes, right. Hospital, it is.” That he even suggested her is… not good. At all. He may say he doesn't trust Bonesaw, but he must have considered the option.

She pushes him lightly, and he grumbles as he moves, letting her grab her clothing as she ignores her shaking hands. She sighs as he picks her up again, but she’s getting the feeling he’s going to just keep carrying her around. With luck, he won’t insist on following her to the hospital as she’s going there with dad. She can let him do this if it means he won’t keep at her heels.

He deposits her in the bathroom, and she happily gets her morning routine done. Even if her legs are weak, and she has to actually sit on the floor as she takes her shower. 

\--

Being carried down the stairs makes her wonder if her legs will atrophy if he keeps doing this, and she doesn't manage to somehow convince him to stop. Besides, he does seem to care about her, and that’s… an amazing feeling. 

She leans her head on his tentacle, asking slowly, “Crawler, are you my friend?”

Crawler pauses, standing there for a short moment before continuing down, “Yes, Taylor. We’re friends. In fact, such good friends, you can call me Ned.”

She blinks, “Ned?” What a… normal name for someone she thought more creature than man less than twelve hours ago. 

“Yes, Taylor?”

Oh, he thinks she was asking for his attention. Well, either admit it or double down, and she’s not going to insult her friends. She’s not Emma. “You’re my best friend, Ned.” She holds his tentacle when he brings it up to pat her head, stopping it before he can. “You’re my only friend.”

Her dad calls from the living room, looking up at her with a… confused expression, “... Only friend? What about Emma? Did something happen between you?”

She flinches, unsure if she should even say, but… This is the first time he’s taken active interest, instead of just shrugging it off. Still, she doesn’t feel right, letting him worry about her. “It’s nothing, dad.”

Ned, however, walks down, saying sharply, “I can tell if you lie. Now explain to us what happened.”

Oh god, she… she doesn't want to, but… 

She looks at her father, who is now holding one of her hands, and how Crawler looks at her with all his eyes. Lying isn’t an option, and they just want her safe, right?

“Emma hasn’t been my friend since high school, dad. Before that, really. When I got back from camp, she said she hated me.” She drops her head, saying softly, “So… for the last several years, she’s been tormenting me.”

He stares at her, then says firmly, “Let’s get you breakfast, and you can tell us about this in the kitchen.”

Which is how she finds herself in a chair, spilling all the things she’s kept inside, telling them what’s happened, and how much Winslow is killing her. How the staff ignores her entirely now, no matter what she does. In Sophomore year they would at least pretend to care, but now that she’s a Senior, they don’t look at her. They don’t even call on her in class.

Finally, Ned says flatly, “Danny, I am going to have you take Taylor to the doctor for antibiotics, and then I am going to go kill that Principal and every single teacher in the school.” While Taylor sits there in shock and her father looks… approving? Crawler continues with, “Don’t worry, no one will spot me. I can be very clandestine when it is required.”

“You can’t do that,” she says, as Crawler pats her head.

“I’m going to do it. It’s for the best, Taylor.”

Her father backs her up, “He won’t really do that, Taylor. Right, Crawler?” He turns away to look at their murderous friend.

Crawler nods slowly, looking from her father to her, “I won’t kill them, Taylor.” He pats her on her head again, and puts a single tentacle on her father’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry. Now, Danny, take her to the hospital for those antibiotics. I’ll be in the basement. Where no one can see me.”

Something about what he’s saying seems off, but her father seems to trust him about what he’s saying. Her dad is almost unspeakably better at recognizing social cues than she is, and is the more likely of the two of them to realize if Crawler is lying.

The basement does have that hole straight to the school, and-

Her father interrupts her thought process, “A good idea. Come on, Taylor, let’s get going. I have a doctor’s appointment set for you already, and then we can pick up the prescription right after.”

She watches as Crawler heads down to the basement, standing up when he closes the door. Walking to it unhurriedly, she opens it, looking down. Crawler looks up at her, where he’s curled up on the floor, holding one of the books from one of the boxes. “Go on, I’m going to just spend my time reading. Don’t worry.”

Relaxing, she smiles shyly, and waves at him, “See you later, Ned.”

He waves back with several tentacles, making her smile widen. “Be safe, Taylor. If you are hurt, I will destroy the ones who did it to you.”

That’s... actually somewhat worrying, but her dad believes it will be okay. She trusts her father to know how Crawler will act.

Her dad touches her lightly, “Come on, little owl. We don’t want to be late for the doctor’s appointment.” She turns, stumbling a bit, not really doing well without something to hold on to. Her father offers his arm to her, and she holds it with a grateful look to him, all the more so when he makes no comment. The rotten step is tricky, but solved by him lightly lifting her and moving her down in a quick motion. He mutters, “That’s dangerous, I’ll fix it when we get home. I won’t let you be hurt by that.”

“You always say that,” she teases him.

“This time I mean it,” he promises.

It feels like he genuinely _does_ mean it, so she doesn’t remind him he says that, too. No need to press him when it is so clearly meant. Especially since they are going somewhere to make sure she isn’t sick.

\--

Taylor places the bottle of antibiotics in the bag in her lap, staring at the bag in confusion while they pull out of the pharmacy drive through. While she’s glad she got out of the doctor’s office without having to spend time overnight at the hospital, they were way too concerned about her in her opinion. And now there’s this.

Finally, she asks, “So… um, do you really think there was a promotion to win a purse?” Since as much as she wants to deny it, the bag is a very fancy purse. 

“They gave it to you, Taylor, so that must have been true.”

She pokes at her new purse, inspecting the various sections, and blinking in surprise at the slim wallet inside of it. She pulls it out, inspecting the ladies’ wallet with care, putting it away with ease. “It’s a nice purse.” Too nice, really. She can’t take this to school. It is purely a fancy time purse.

Emma or Sophia will destroy it.

She holds it close to her chest, just enjoying having something nice.

Her father coughs, glancing at the clock for some reason, “Taylor, you know I want you to be the safest you can be, right?”

“Yes, of course.” What is this about?

He takes a deep breath, looking like he’s steeling himself, and says, “I think you need a cell phone.”

She stares at him, “A cell phone?” She wants one desperately, but has never brought it up because… Mom.

Her father nods once, “If… if you’d had a cellphone, you could have possibly called out for help. You said you were in that locker after they turned out the _lights_ , Taylor! Stuck in filth, mocked by those disgusting kids, and ignored by people who should have saved you!” His hands clench the steering wheel, “I lost your mother, but I _can’t_ lose you.” He focuses on the road, “You have to promise to not use it to text or even talk on when you drive.”

She stares at him, but finally manages to say, “I promise.” Then more firmly, “I promise, dad. I won’t ever text while driving or talk on it. You don’t need to worry. I promise.”

He gives her a smile filled with love, and she wonders how she could have ever thought he only saw her as a painful reminder of mom.

\--

When they get home, Taylor gratefully sinks into the couch, pulling out her new phone. She's not sure if she really needs this super fancy touch screen with internet access and room for so many apps, but her dad insisted. It isn’t top of the line or anything, but it is significantly fancier than she originally assumed she’d be getting. No flip phone for her.

She glances up as her father walks past her, holding a toolbox and a length of wood. Sitting up, she asks, “Dad? What are you doing?”

He looks over with a smile, “Fixing the step. I need to keep you safe, sweetie.”

She glances out a window, and there is still _some_ light. She’s not sure if that’s enough to work on the step. “Um… are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“I am going to.”

She shifts a little, “Okay.” Moving to get up, she says, “I’ll go tell Ned he can come up, then I’ll make food.”

He shakes his head, “You stay sitting. The doctor said you have an infection. You’re _also_ incredibly unsteady on your feet, so you’re not moving unless you have to. I’ll tell Ned, and we can see if he can cook.”

Imagining Crawler cooking is something she kinda wants to see, but… she needs to ask something now that she’s thinking about it. “Dad?”

He pauses his trek towards the basement door, “Yes?”

“Why are you so… okay with Ned being here? He’s part of the Slaughterhouse Nine.” She’s okay with it because the man saved her from her personal hell and is intent on being a metaphorical personal attack dog. It’s hard to hate someone who has only shown her kindness. She knows, intellectually, he’s a murderer, but… he cares about her. He didn’t leave her to die in filth and bugs. 

It seems she can forgive a lot, when it comes to someone saving her; when it comes to showing her a shred of intentional kindness.

Her father smiles at her, “Honey, he saved you. He brought you home to me and kept you safe. I can accept a great deal, if it comes to you being okay. Besides, I spoke with him this morning. He’s retired from the Slaughterhouse Nine.”

She blinks, “You can _do_ that?”

“Yes,” comes a deep rumble from the doorway, making her jump. Ned walks in, nudging the coffee table out of the way to sit at Taylor’s feet, spreading out on the floor in a surprisingly catlike way. “You go fix the step, Danny. I’ll keep her guarded.”

Dad heads outside with his supplies, while she stares accusingly at Crawler. “You threatened me with Bonesaw this morning!”

That gets an amused snort, “No, I said you needed to go to the hospital, and that I didn’t trust Bonesaw to fix you.”

Did he? She doesn’t remember the exact wording. She’ll drop it, since arguing isn’t going to solve anything. She pulls out the charging cord to the phone, and plugs it into the wall, hooking it up. “Can you get me some water? The doctor said I should take them as soon as I got home.”

She knows he’ll insist on carrying her if she stands up.

He grumbles, but does go to the kitchen, searching through the shelves until he pulls things down and there’s the sound of water running. Soon enough, he’s back laying at her feet, and she takes her pill. 

Ned sets a book in front of him, reading again, and Taylor spends time just browsing PHO. When her father comes in, he goes to the couch, flipping on a movie. “Tomorrow, I need to meet with the lawyer in person about how the school has been treating you. This is a preliminary meeting, and mostly about hashing things out further. We’ll be doing more information later.”

“You want me to come with?” 

“Do you want to? It will be… Frustrating.” His expression isn’t encouraging.

“I think I’ll be fine with Ned tomorrow. If you need me, I’ll go, though.”

He smiles at her, “We’ll see how it goes.”

And with that, they all settle in to pay attention to the movie as a family.


	4. Meeting Your Heroes (Isn't All It's Cracked Up To Be)

Taylor hangs up her phone, tucking it in her purse, next to her spare charger. Glancing at Ned, she says, “That was dad. He said he’ll be at the lawyer’s for the next several hours.”

“And what did he say about the food situation?”

She bites her lower lip, “I’m supposed to go pick up something to eat.” She glances in her purse, double checking to see that she has the money. She has to shuffle her phone aside to find the few loose bills she has, but her debit card is where she left it in the special pocket in her purse. She barely uses the thing, and it’s typically for emergencies, anyway. It’s connected to her dad’s bank account, and he mostly only has her have it due to wanting to be sure she’ll be safe. She’s used it exactly twice; once for getting food when her dad stayed at work late, and another time to buy a replacement shirt.

Ned grumbles softly, “Then I will go with you.”

Rolling her eyes, she says easily, “You still have that kill order on you-”

“I haven’t died despite doing things that are actively looking for my death. They can’t kill me.”

“They could attack me just because I’m near you.” She stands up, “You stay here, and I will head out. There’s a local restaurant only fifteen minutes away, and that’s walking. It won’t be more than an hour, and I’ll be back before you know it.” She pokes him lightly in the side as she gathers up what she needs, “You can put all your favorites of my books in a bag, so you can read them as you wait down in the basement.”

“If you’re gone for more than an hour, I will go find you.”

She takes the warning for what it is, “Gotcha. Here.” She tosses him one of her nicest backpacks, one that only has a few stains from sabotage, but no holes or damage. “Put in all the books you can fit as I get changed into something acceptable to wear outside.” 

That gets more grumbling, but she can hear him moving doing just that as she heads to the bathroom to get changed from the light t-shirt and loose pants she put on after her shower this morning. When she’s done, she steps out, rolling her eyes as Ned picks her up. “You know I can walk up and down the steps just fine.”

He ignores her, the bag in one tentacle next to her, “I’ll go to the basement after you leave. Do you have your keys?”

She checks through the purse, and they’re tucked into the pocket she’d left it in. “Yeah, and my money.”

He sets her down in front of the door, “Now-” He cuts off, looking over, “Someone just parked in your driveway.”

“Dad?”

“It’s a woman’s voice, and there’s the sound of heavy equipment.”

“Weird.”

She hurries to a window, looking in confusion at the plain white van blocking her car in. The car is a clunker she knows dad got from one of the dockworkers, and she never brings it to school for fear of sugar in the gas tank or broken windows. A woman steps out of the van, and she’s in some dark, professional looking, uniform. The weirdest part is the woman has some sort of scarf over her face. That’s not a good thing, since no identifying marks implies the woman _might_ be from one of the gangs.

Sure, the woman could be some random in a mask, since that does happen, but the fact that she’s blocked Taylor’s car in is /not// a good thing. Makes her worry about a home robbery. Something she doesn’t want Ned to deal with, since that will end in a death.

Taylor glances over, “You should hide, I think she’s-” There’s a knock at the door, making her sigh. “Right.”

She opens the door once Ned is out of view, and the woman says, “Miss Herbert?”

She scowls, “It’s Hebert.”

“Miss Hebert. I’m with the PRT, and I’m here to discuss the disappearance of the teachers at Winslow. It was shown you went missing, and we need to check if you’re okay. It was made a high priority after your friend So-” The woman’s head darts to the side, looking past Taylor, “Was that- It is!” And suddenly there’s a flash of green energy in her hands that converts into a dangerous looking gun.

“Holy shit, you’re Miss Militia.” What the fuck is she doing here, seemingly undercover? It does explain the scarf hiding the face, if she’s willing to use her power visibly. 

Miss Militia grabs her arm, yanking her forward, and she ends up behind the woman, feeling rattled. “Miss Hebert! You have Crawler in your house!” 

She tugs on her arm, still being held by the woman, “You’re hurting me!”

And then the usually patriotic looking cape shoots into her god damned house, the sound making her ears ring from the volume. Taylor exclaims in pain, hands clapping over her ears, and she crouches down without even thinking about it. 

Miss Militia says, voice commanding, “I’ll go and check for him, stay here.”

Glaring angrily, Taylor snaps, “You’re going to tear up my house is what you’re going to do! What the fuck? Leave!”

“Miss Hebert, that is _Crawler_ in your home, I can not leave with-” Suddenly she shoots three more times into her house, “Crawler! I saw you!” Miss Militia pulls out a cell phone, “I’m calling for backup, don’t you-”

Not even thinking about what she’s doing, she snatches the phone away, “No! You are not! You’re attacking my only fucking friend, and destroying my house!” 

“Miss Hebert, what are you talking about?”

“You shoot a fucking shotgun into my _house_ , right at the person who fucking saved me! You can go to hell!” Normally, she wouldn’t curse, but this is a cursing situation. It is a screaming f-bombs at a supposed hero situation. 

The next thing she knows Miss Militia shoots _her_ , and it is more shocking than anything. Especially since it doesn’t kill her. But now foam expands around her, hardening around her head, and she only barely manages to shut her mouth just in time. She can hear, slightly muffled, “Console, we have a situation. Crawler is in a civilian's house. The one I was visiting. She claimed he’s her friend, so I need to be extra cautious. It is possible that Crawler adapted a master effect.”

Taylor wants, very deeply, to rub her temples, and explain that’s not how Ned’s adaptation works. It is physical, not trump based. Even Ned’s emotion dampening is physical due to the changes done to his brain, and-

Oh shit.

Ned is going to take this very badly.

Taylor is the only person Ned cares about, and Miss Militia is going to throw her into Master/Stranger protocols until she claims Crawler from the _Slaughterhouse Nine_ isn’t her friend. There’s only one way this will go.

Ned’s gonna do a murder, and Taylor isn’t able to deescalate the situation. 

She tries to open her mouth to call out to Ned, but she can’t move her jaw. All she manages is a wordless scream through closed lips and teeth. She can hear through it, so maybe Ned can, too. 

Wait, fuck, she regrets the scream a lot now, since the gunshots are coming fast and furious, while she can hear an inuman roar that can only be Ned. This is bad. There’s another scream, this one coming from behind her. Miss Militia yells, “Sir! Get back into your house! I am-”

More screaming and gunshots. 

The very worst part is how she can’t move. It is like the locker only a million times worse size-wise. And a million times better by the lack of biological waste, smell, or any sort of bugs crawling all over her! She focuses on the good, like knowing how it is better, and that Ned will save her.

He has to save her. 

He’s said he’ll protect her.

He can’t just leave her, not like this. He has to keep her safe.

But she also doesn’t want him to save her, since he will hurt Miss Militia and any other heroes that show up. And if they manage to get her to the PRT or the Rig, then Ned will kill even more. And then-

Oh fuck, she’s mentally spiraling. Focus, Taylor. Think of good things. Like… dad isn’t in the house! And he is already with a lawyer! 

There’s more yelling, gunshots, and then a sort of… tearing sound as she suddenly goes spinning around in a vomit inducing feeling. She only barely manages to keep from doing so, by pure will and the horrifying thought that she will suffocate if she does. While containment foam is widely known to allow the ones caught in it to breathe, she doubts any liquid will do the same. 

At least, she doesn’t remember if it does, and especially not while she feels violently ill. 

The spinning turns into a weird sort of up and down motion, while more gunshots sound along with a great deal of sirens.

She loses track of time, since she can’t exactly know how long it is, but eventually the gunshots stop, a longer time later the sirens do, and there’s no real sound at all. 

After a bit longer, the movement stops, and she can hear Ned say, “Taylor. I’m getting you out of that. We’re far from the city, and I’m not sorry.” There’s a ripping sound, which must be the foam, “I know you’d like to return, but we can’t without them trying to take you from me. That idiot thinks I’ve mastered you, and that idea will only spread.”

She wants to sigh, but she can only let a huff of air out through her nose. There’s more ripping, and a feeling like she’s being shaken.

“Taylor,” Ned says, sounding as worried as he can get, “I want you to make a sound, so I know you’re not unconscious.”

She screams to the best of her ability.

More ripping and tearing, “Good. I am glad to know she didn’t use something stupid, like the lethal version.”

The what now? She screams again, hoping she sounds confused. Since there’s a story there, and she wants to hear it.

It seems it got through, since he explains while slowly freeing her, “They have special batches used to shoot at the Nine. Alan and Riley have scraped it off me enough times that Alan has a container of it in his body, and Riley has an antidote already modified in the others.

Who are Alan and Riley? She screams her confusion scream again, only to screech in pain as he yanks the foam from her fingers, the ones clutching Miss Militia’s phone.

It’s taken from her, and she shortly hears a soft crunch. “I know that one wasn’t your’s. I ate it. I know the Protectorate has tracking chips in their supplies. I’m going to have to move, since we don’t want them knowing where we are.”

And it’s back to the up and down movement she now knows is Ned’s loping run. Knowing that, it is significantly more comfortable. She relaxes, as much as she can like this. 

It also helps since Ned keeps talking, “I’ve got that bag of books, if it helps. The only reason I do is because I was in too much of a hurry to put them down.” 

Sounds unlikely, since there was a fair enough amount of time between him being discovered and him leaving the house that it could have been simple to drop it. She’s not complaining, though, since it means she will have something to read while doing this. As much as she wants to say she’ll be returning to Brockton Bay no matter what, Ned won’t allow that. Not anytime soon, and she won’t really be able to blame him. It won’t be safe to go back. As much as it tears at her heart to think of it.

She has her cell phone, at least? She can send her dad an email or something. Call him, maybe. He doesn’t have a cell phone, but maybe he will after this. The PRT will be bugging the landline. It’s less likely on a cell, especially if he gets burners and changes them randomly.

She’ll need to get in contact with him somehow.

Soon enough, Ned has her set down and is taking her out of the foam. It is… uncomfortable. Ned stares at her, the top of her head and all of her hair still enclosed in a foam chunk. “I’d try melting it off, but my spit will go straight to your skin.”

She scratches the foam off her purse, “Yeah, let’s not.” She pulls out her cell, “Should I call dad, or wait a few days?”

He shrugs at her, entirely unhelpful. “No one in the Nine ever tried getting hold of those they left behind.” Ned pauses, “Mostly since Jack rarely allowed the group to _have_ someone to leave.”

She hums softly, and turns her cell off. It has nothing going on, but also there is no cell reception, so she can’t exactly find it in her to be surprised about that. She wants to be able to contact her father, but there’s no helping when she’s unable to contact him. “Well, Ned, what do we do next?”

“You were planning on getting food. Let’s set up an area you can camp out, and I’ll go hunting.”

“Camp?”

He picks her up, carrying her along, “Need a place to cook, and camping is part of that.”

She’s going to have to do things in the great outdoors. She isn’t looking forward to this. At all.

\--

She’s right. This suuuucksssss.

She scowls at the shitty fire in front of her, that is only barely going because she remembered the bow and stick method and had some string in her purse. 

Ned drops a deer in front of her and she stares at him. He looks at her, pushing it a little closer, “Here.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to do with that thing,” she says flatly. 

“Eat it.”

“How?”

He pokes it, “Look, usually I just shove the things down my mouth, so I dunno. Jack was the one who was better at this. Him and Riley could use a knife like no one’s business.”

“Ned.”

He looks at her, “Yeah?”

“Do I look like I have a knife?”

He glances at the fire, with all the thin branches sticking out, the ends clearly raw from being ripped off trees. “...I got claws?”

“Can you cut that up, then?”

He does, and she wishes she had an internet connection to check how to properly butcher wild game. Or maybe how to best cook on a campfire without any tools.

Seriously, though, fuck outside.


	5. Enchanting Those We Don't Know Into Giving Clothing And Good Talks

Taylor curls on top of Ned’s back, poking him in the head as she asks, “So… Who are Riley and Alan?”

“The only tinkers in the Slaughterhouse Nine.”

She blinks, “You mean …Bonesaw and Mannequin?”

He hums agreeably, pulling down branches to better allow Taylor not to get brained by something that may hit her. “Alan doesn’t talk, but he always bitched if I tried to bite him. And Jack was always going on, ‘Now, now, Ned. We’re all friends here, no need to leave scuffs on his face,’ then laugh. Riley is a little brat, and complained that her modifications wouldn’t work on me, and she wanted to take samples of my body. She could never scavenge anything that could properly cut me, since Alan’s weapons stopped working on me forever ago.” He grins at her, and winks, “Not that I ever told her that _I_ can remove my own parts.”

She blinks, “Huh. That reminds me. You said you retired from the Nine?”

“I did. I went to Jack, informed him that I was leaving, since I wanted to see how well I’d do on my own. A lie, but one he didn’t bother calling me on. Jack laughed, he does that a lot when he thinks of me wandering off, saying I was welcome to leave. The man is a frustration, but also not terribly controlling, so long as he believes the person he’s releasing won’t turn against him.”

“Would you turn against him?” she asks, mostly out of curiosity, rather than actually wanting him to.

“Should he attempt to hurt you? Yes. Otherwise? Not really planning on it. Something about him makes him feel untouchable. There’s a part of me that always stepped lightly around the man, even if I should have long since ripped out his insufferable throat.”

She nods slowly, “So… Why were you in Brockton Bay?” Something that has been prodding at the back of her mind for a while now.

“I was examining the city to see if we would have possible parahumans to recruit when we’re replacing members later on.”

She freezes, “With you leaving, would they go to Br-”

“No. Jack says that recruiting from where they lost a member is only going to draw the sight of those too certain the loss is a weakness in which they can take advantage. Best to move on, and spread the horror that people know the Nine may go to their city next. Brockton Bay has more of an advantage currently, due to having chased me away in their view. It will be more dramatic if they return in the future to remove the problem, but your father will be safe from their wrath.”

She shifts a little, going from laying to sitting, “How do you know dad will be okay?”

He shrugs his shoulders, making her jolt on his back, but his tentacles right her quickly. “He’s just one man in hundreds of thousands. They do not know what he looks like, and will be unlikely to realize I want him safe because you want him safe. He will be fine. If you truly are worried, once that cell phone has some sort of signal, tell him to move.”

Even if she asked him to, he never would. He loves the Bay. He put so much time, effort, and heart into the place. He will not leave, no matter what. She’s asked before, at the beginning of the school year, once the teachers stopped looking at her, if they could go. 

Grandfather built the house, and her father will not leave it. He is too stubborn, and too proud to leave. Too certain that if he keeps trying, the ferry will return. She knows now, it never will. 

Crawler picks her off his back, looking around as he wraps her up protectively. “Hush,” he says softly, not really needing to, but she knows the drill by now.

The sound of people is much too close, and now is the time for deception and silence. She curls up, and lets Ned carry her to safety.

\--

A week later, Taylor is ready to actually attempt to strangle Ned, but thankfully the man seems to realize that, since he says, “So… there’s a small town near here. How about you go to the YMCA, pay for a day pass, and… take a shower or something?”

“I’d say you think I smell, but I know I do and I just want to have hot water instead of bathing in a river.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

So that’s how she finds herself walking into a YMCA, slamming some money down on the counter, and saying, “Shower.”

The lady blinks at her, then looks at the money, and says slowly, “Honey, keep the cash. You go get cleaned up. Here.” The lady stands up, moving to a bit further away, and hands her a sample size paired bottles of shampoo and conditioner and a towel. “How about I get you some clothing, too?”

Taylor takes the money back, “Um, thank you. I’d like that.” 

The lady gives her a padlock, “Here, take this so you can keep your stuff locked up as you get cleaned.”

“Thank you,” she says, taking everything. “I’ll just return it when I’m done.”

“You do that. I’ll go check for clothing, don’t worry.”

She heads to the locker room, and puts the things in the locker. She’s about to lock it up when the lady walks in, handing her some sweats, “Thank you.”

The lady smiles, “Sorry I can’t get you more, but there just isn’t much here. You get cleaned up.”

“This is amazing, thank you.”

The lady waves as she leaves, and Taylor heads straight to the showers after locking her purse and shoes in the locker. She’s just gonna do her best to clean her clothing in the shower with the shampoo, and squeeze dry it. She’s going straight back to Crawler after, anyway. He’s gotten much better at cooking, and until the heat dies down, she doesn't want to deal with them being tracked. Which she knows is still happening because she managed to check online on her phone. Her phone only isn’t dead because she’s been keeping the thing off and the batteries removed.

Not much use for it when hiding in the woods like a fucking feral child and her insane monster best friend!

Ned is damned lucky he’s nice to talk to, or she’d have insisted on coming in to a town way earlier. Granted, now she’s glad it took so long for this, since it seems like the PRT is almost certain Ned killed and ate her. While her phone call to her dad went straight to voicemail. Even the one to his work. 

…What day is it?

She’ll check after her shower.

\--

Her email, which she manages to check due to waiting for her hair to dry before wanting to head outside, has a few emails from her dad. The first few frantic, then a short one telling her not to keep using the one she’s on now, and to use a service that blacks out where things are from since he’s pretty sure the PRT are searching her things and to email him on the address he used to send this one. 

Signing up is simple, and she shoots him an email telling him what is going on. Pretty soon, she gets another back with a phone number she doesn’t recognize. Well, her dad sent it, so she may as well. 

“Taylor!” her father almost yells, right after the first ring. “Oh thank goodness, you’re okay!”

“Hey dad, why didn’t you pick up the phone when I called your work or at home?”

“The damn things have been ringing off the hook, people wanting to get interviews and things, and I’m certain the PRT have tapped them. I’ve told them to leave me be, and I think they assume I think you’re already dead. I haven't told them anything, and they don’t know you have a cellphone.”

Well, now she’s glad she didn’t bother leaving a message on the machines. “Well, then we can talk! That’s good!”

“So are you okay?”

She is about to say yes, but she pauses. Complaining to Ned doesn’t help, since he doesn't get that sleeping on the ground sucks. So she groans, saying, “I’ve been sleeping on a forest floor with whatever Ned can hunt to eat. I only just got a shower today, and I hate it.”

“Do you think you can come home?”

“I want to.” She so does. Just the idea of curling up on the couch at home, maybe eating a cake, has her longing for home. “But the thing is, I can’t see Ned being able to lay low for long enough. Can you?”

“You won’t leave him to come home?”

She shakes her head, even if she knows he can’t see her, “No, I won’t. He’s my only friend, dad. He saved me.” She sighs, “Besides, dad? Do you honestly think I want to return to Brockton Bay? You’re there, and Mom’s grave is there. That’s the only part of it I like. That’s it.”

Her father pauses, thinking it through, “You only have this last year of school…” Oh, he knows it is a weak argument, but poking holes is cruel when she knows he only wants her with him and safe.

“I have the internet on the phone, dad. And you got me that great data plan. If you want, I can do independent study or something.” She likely won’t, unless she’s especially bored, but better than nothing.

“You said you haven't been using it in the email, though. That’s why my calls never got through.”

“Dad,” she says, rubbing her forehead with thumb and forefinger, trying to stave off a headache, “I’ve been running around the fucking wilderness. I don’t have much use-”

“Taylor,” he interrupts in a gentle tone, “I miss you.”

Her heart stabs with pain. Longing fills her, but she manages to push it down with difficulty. “I miss you, too,” she hopes it doesn’t sound as if she’s trying not to cry, even if that’s exactly what she’s doing.

“Is Ned keeping you safe?”

“Yeah,” she says, rubbing at her eyes under her glasses. 

“Good. Then I just want you to remain safe. I want you home, and you want to come home, but you can’t. Right?”

“R-right.” She wishes she had a tissue; something to blow her nose on.

“Do you still have the debit card?” 

“In my purse, yeah.”

“I bet you need clothing and other necessities. I just got paid today. Your limit is about… two hundred. Go buy what you need, and be safe. If you spend over, just send me a text. If you spend less, go buy candy and chocolate. Don’t forget pads when you buy things, okay?”

Oh shit, her dad thinks ahead. That makes so much sense.

“I will.”

“And a bag to carry that. Not just the plastic ones they give you, they won’t last in the wilderness.”

“I will. Thank you, dad.”

“Be careful. Check in whenever you can, even if it is in the middle of the night. I’ll answer, no matter what.”

Fuck, she loves her dad so much. “Okay, daddy. I’ll do that,” she says, rubbing at her eyes and she tries not to cry again. She wants nothing more to be with him, held in a hug.

“Go shopping, little owl. I love you.”

“Love you,” she says back, disconnecting the call.

She rubs her eyes, and stands up. Time to shop for things, then head back to Ned.

\--

Two hundred dollars doesn’t go super far, but it is enough for a cloth bag, various hygiene necessities, spare clothing and underwear, and some camping equipment with food. She pats her purse, and ten chocolate bars she got on clearance. Sure, there’s coconut in about three of them, but she’s going to be rationing this shit as it is. She doesn’t love coconut, but she grabbed all the ones without any raisins, so that’s enough. They may be weird off brands, but they all have actual chocolate in them that doesn’t have artificial sweeteners. She needs the calories as it is when out in the wilderness.

When she gets to Ned, he lifts his head from where he’s reading a book, then he says, “Shopping?”

“Clothing, deodorant and soap, and other things.”

The man sniffs the air, “Candy?”

“For _me_ , not you.”

Ned huffs, “Cruelty. Towards your best friend. How could you be-”

“I had to wash fucking containment foam out of my hair without anything to dissolve it for three hours in a river. That’s why all the candy is mine. I’m not sharing when you’re the one who did this to me.”

Ned pauses, clearly thinking about it. Finally, “Fair enough.” Ned stands up, “You ate like I suggested?”

She bought five cheeseburgers, and a huge glass of orange soda. It was heaven. But thinking about it, she pulls out the fourth and fifth burgers, that she just didn’t have room for, and tosses them to Ned. “For you.”

He catches them, and unwraps them delicately as he picks her up and sets her on his back. He shoves the wrappers followed by the burgers in his mouth as he gets walking. “See,” he says, “this is yet another reason you’re better than Jack. Whenever they went to a town where they didn’t kill anyone, they never brought me back food. It was always, ‘Your taste buds are weird, Crawler,’ or ‘Just eat another wild animal, you don’t need this.’ It is some bullshit. You give me fast food.”

She laughs, taking out the book she’s been reading to Ned, noting the bookmark has been moved up several pages. Ned’s been reading ahead, but that’s fine, since she has this one’s plot pretty much stuck in her heart. 

“Well, want me to read this to you, or….”

He ruffles her hair with a tentacle as he says, “Tell me about your day.”

She laughs, “You first!”

He holds her and their things with care as he jumps over a fallen log, “I went and caught a deer. It wasn’t the most healthy creature, but tasted okay. I’d have told you to cook it thoroughly.” Well, since there was a gigantic worm in the first deer Crawler caught, she’s long since taken to cooking meat to almost burnt in the hope she doesn’t fucking die.

“When do I not?” she asks instead.

He just nods, continuing with, “There was a man in the woods, wandering around and marking some trees with orange warning tape.”

“Were they dead trees?”

“I don't know. He stripped off the bark about an inch into the tree, and a foot high. I’m not someone who pays much attention to that sort of thing usually. You’ll need to look it up and see at some point.”

“I’ll do that,” she pulls out a pencil, and notes it down on the bookmark. May as well. “Anything else happen?”

“I ate a bird.”

“Impressive,” she says. Mostly due to how Ned’s been aiming at birds he has to jump to catch lately. “Any closer to getting wings to fly?”

“Not yet. Someday, though. Someday.”

“I believe in you.”

Ned nods once, “It’s unfortunate falling down great heights only makes my underside more protected. My power doesn’t understand how I want to take to the skies and kill the birds for mocking us.”

She nods, knowing how Ned feels about these things. “I still don’t get why the Siberian never took you on a walk to the sky with her.”

“Personally, I blame Jack. Most of the time, it’s his fault.”

Ned blames Jack for most things. 

She can rarely find a reason to argue about this. If she could, she’d blame a lot on Jack Slash, too. Library closed? Jack Slash. Mysterious bruise? Jack Slash. Stubbed Toe? Jack Slash. Bad hair day? Jack Slash. Food burned? Jack Slash. Day just sucks? Jack Slash.

On the run from the PRT since they think your best friend is evil, and you’re not going to abandon him?

Fuck you, Jack Slash, it’s all your fault. 

Wow, that’s pretty cathartic.

She pats Crawler on the side, “Jack is an asshole.” 

“He really is.” After a bit, Crawler asks, “And how about your day? You smell cleaner and happier.”

Perking up, Taylor launches into her day.


	6. Food, Fur, and Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For today’s listening pleasure, may I suggest you have Love Like You by Rebecca Sugar playing? It certainly fits the chapter, and I’ve had it in my playlist of songs for my fics for a _very_ long time, indeed. Perhaps you will enjoy it.
> 
> In fact, I will put an embedded in where you should listen to it. Make it easy on everyone! 
> 
> Edit: The preview doesn't work for the embed, but the FAQ warns that happens sometimes. So I'm just.... putting it there and hoping. If you can't see it, then please load up the song in the scene break.

Taylor flips through the book, “So… do you think that we’re good for waiting in one place for a while?”

Ned nods once, “Yeah, we’re pretty isolated. There’s a ton of just… nothing all over in Canada and the United States. The Nine liked the US, but it’s kind of better for us here.”

She nods, understanding that, even if it is kind of weird. “Alright… Ned, we’re learning to tan deer hide.”

“If you want?”

“Ned…” She stares at him, “I need warm things to sleep under. You are making me learn how to deal with the outside. Do I _look_ like someone who likes this garbage?”

He pats her head, “You’re doing amazing.”

She scowls, and works on butchering the stupid deer in front of her. It goes pretty fast, unlike that first day. Less mess, and significantly less blood just… everywhere. Ned is not good at this.

“Just set up the stupid fire. Make sure it’s smokey and junk.” She knows they probably shouldn’t have yanked down three fruit trees for this, but the book says coniferous trees are bad for smoking things. And well, she has fond memories of applewood smoked bacon. Her mouth waters a little at the idea of deer meat flavored like that.

Once everything is as well divided as she can get it, Ned shoves the bones in his mouth, looking pleased. Her friend, once finished, says, “I’ll go hunt for a creature with soft fur. Would you like a…” He hums, thinking about it, helping her place meat where required on the makeshift smoker, and finally saying, “Fox-”

“Absolutely not.”

“No fox?”

“Don’t you dare kill a fox just so I have it’s fur. Choose something that I don’t care if it dies, not something I think of as a cute dog.” Since the idea of killing a fox just for that…. No. She can't. She’d bury the poor thing, unable to stand the thought of it.

“Mink.”

She pauses, thinking about it, then nods. “Weasels are fair game.” Wild ones are kind of dangerous, anyway. She knows a neighbor used to have backyard chickens, but then a weasel got in. The damned thing just killed everything, and ate nothing. Came in to kill for no reason at all. 

It was… hard to return to store bought eggs after being gifted with fresh ones every few days.

And one of those chickens was so sweet. The hen would hop onto her lap and just let her pet and cuddle her. It broke her heart, seeing those feathers and knowing the old hen who did nothing wrong was murdered just for a weasel’s sport. At least a fox would _eat_ it. Not just leave the body there, and the chicken dead for nothing.

She starts working on the leather and fur, figuring out how to tan it according to the book. “If you catch me a weasel, then I’ll use the fur to keep warm.”

Ned tucks a tentacle into her hair, ruffling it a little, “I’ll get you weasel, and you’ll be the fanciest fugitive from the PRT in the world.”

She snorts, shoving his tentacle away, “I’m not a fugitive, you idiot. Dad says the PRT is calling me your hostage. They have a codename for me, too.”

“A cape name,” Ned corrects.

Rolling her eyes, she works the leather cleaner, “I know they say I have a power, but I don’t believe it.”

“You do,” he says, grinning. “You’ve ensnared me with it, you know.”

She tosses a chunk of fat at his face to show her irritation, but he snaps it out of the air with his mouth, ruining her display. Smiling a little, she says, “Then I’ll need a mask, for when we travel.”

“I’ll get you something soft. Something perfect.”

Shaking her head, Taylor adjusts the skin, “You do that.”

He pats her head, and heads out, likely to hunt.

She sighs, glancing at the fire, and adding more wood. At least now she can store food. Ned eating it when it got bad just… it is not her idea of a good time.

Besides, new flavors are always welcome. Maybe she’ll find an _onion_ to eat things with.

…She needs to get the fuck out of the wilderness, holy shit.

\--

Taylor chews on the jerky, and it just kinda is okay. Not bad, but it doesn’t really feel worth the hours and hours of work she put into it. However, it is still kind of winter, if a warm year due to the weird-ass ways that the Endbringers influence the weather. 

She watches, a little blankly, as Ned puts a dead weasel in front of her, fur white and surprisingly not bloody other than around the mouth. “How’d you….” she trails off, realizing she doesn’t want to know how he killed it. Instead, she says, “It’s great. Thank you. You wanna eat the meat when I’m done?” Since she knows eating a carnivore is a bad idea. The meat tastes like shit.

… does it really?

Something to test, she guesses.

Ned grins, “Yes.”

She pulls out her knife, and works on skinning the thing. Ned watches intently, looking content. The man’s tentacles are laying calmly next to him, relaxed, happy. She works on making sure the fur remains as unstained and intact as possible, not really caring for this. “So… why do I need a fur mask? Fucking PETA gonna get on our asses when we’re in public.”

Which is bad, since one of the main proponents is a vigilante, claiming he’s a hero, that goes out and fucking murders capes he thinks abuse animals. The good news is that Friend of Faunus is on the west coast, and she’s somewhere near the east. But he’s been known to travel, if something is much more obvious. 

Would he attack Crawler? He might, but from the comments that fucker has made, he likely thinks of Crawler as an animal. Not, you know, an actual thinking human being. Faunus has called some Case 53’s animals in need of protection. That absolute fuckhead.

“Your power won’t allow them to attack you. If it kept me from eating you, then you’re safe.” 

It’s unsettling to know Ned’s original plan for her was as food, even covered in filth as she was. But he wants her safe, and is her best friend. That’s enough. 

He continues, tentacles petting her head and hair, “And you need something lovely to show how elegant you are, _Innocent_.”

She scowls at him, “The Innocent is a weird name for a cape. Why did they give it to me, anyway? I hate it.”

“That’s what your power does. Make you seem innocent and in need of protection. Or so your father told me is what the thinkers believe.”

She scowls, finishing with the weasel, “I still don’t know why they explained to my dad what my supposed powers do.”

Ned is silent for a little bit, not eating the weasel when she offers, just holding it in a tentacle. He looks at her, eyes gentle, and uses a tentacle to curl a lock of her hair. Finally, he says softly, “He told me not to tell you, but you deserve to know.”

She stares at him, “Wh-what?” It’s the way he says it that makes her stutter more than anything. Apprehension fills her as she waits for him to tell her.

“Your powers may be what made him be a better father to you.”

It’s _worse_ than she thought. It’s a horrible feeling, to be told how she Mastered her own father. She pulls away, staring at Ned. “N-no. No!”

“Taylor,” he starts, but she’s already standing up, walking away.

“No. He- No! It isn’t my power! He loves me!” It can’t be true. It _isn’t_ true.

“He does love you,” Ned says, instantly catching up to walk next to her. “Your powers just… helped with-”

“No!” She rubs at her eyes, unmindful of how it just smears blood on her face. “No. He… he cares about me. Not because of- … He called the police to find me!”

“Taylor.”

“He loves me!” It’s more pleading than anything. Her heart aches, and she wraps her arms around herself, hating how weak she feels. She hasn’t been walking enough, that’s all. It isn’t because of this horrendous revelation, obviously. “He loves me, Ned.”

“He does,” Ned says firmly. “This is why he didn’t want you to know. He loved you before your power hooked into him. He thinks the powers just gave him a… boost. A boost to make sure he would be a better father.”

“He…” Her heart clenches, remembering, “He hadn’t called the police to find me. He only said he was going to, and he saw me so he didn’t ever do it.”

“No, but he was worried before I got you home.”

She leans on Ned, “Why did powers make him love me? He was supposed to-”

“They didn’t _make_ him love you, Taylor. He already did. Like I said, they just gave him a boost so he would show you he cares and loves you. Your mother dying really hurt him, and your powers-”

“Mom died _years_ ago!” She curls against him, tears gathering in her eyes, and she’s not feeling up to wiping them away now. “Three and a half years ago. He sh-should have… Why didn’t he love me, Ned?”

“He did and _does_ love you, Taylor. His talks on the phone with me when you go to town or clean up in a gas station show that. He cares about you. He is why I bring you what vegetables I can find.”

She doesn't protest as he picks her up, just clutching a tentacle to her chest as he carries her back to camp. “Why didn’t he notice the bullying, Ned?”

“You always said you were fine, and never told him. If you never let him know, how could he? The teachers never said a word, and seemed to be actively covering it up.”

She murmurs, “So it is my fault?”

“No,” he says, voice harsh, angry. “It isn’t. If I had more time when I was in Brockton Bay, your oppressors would not still be walking around.”

“I don’t want you to kill people,” she says, voice soft. She stares at the fire as he sets her on the cleaned fur. “I just want to be loved and cared for.”

“And I do love and care about you,” he says, tucking her sleeping bag over her. “So does your dad. And he did before you got your powers.”

“I don’t… I don’t like my powers.”

He snorts, poking her lightly on the nose with the tip of a tentacle, “Don’t you lie to me. The lady who uses her powers to convince people in towns they need to help her is right in front of me. You’re just upset because you think it made something happen that hurts you. Well, I think the world would be a worse place if you didn’t have those powers, since they mean I have a better purpose than going around and destroying things.”

She reaches for him, and he wraps two tentacles around her in a comforting hug. Holding him back, she says, “Why do you think I’m so good, when my powers are the reason you should hate them the very most?”

He crouches down, staring at her with a stern expression, “I don’t care. You give me something I’ve long thought lost, and the ability to break away from the Slaughterhouse Nine like I’ve been wanting to. You know that bastard always kept me on a short leash.”

She touches his face, “He let you go do things on your own. Now you have to be with me.”

“I don’t _have_ to do anything,” he informs her. “If I wanted, I’d already be long gone. You would still be in Brockton Bay, and I’d be wandering off doing other things. Instead, I _get_ to be with someone who lets me feel happiness and protective. When the only happiness I had before wasn’t even that, just the ability to feel _something_.” He stares her in the eyes, saying gently, “If not for you, I’d try to find someone to skin me in the desperate attempt to feel pain. In the hope I’d be dead. Now, here I am, happy to be alive, happy to be happy, and happy to finally have someone I care about. Don’t you dare tell me that’s been forced on me, just because you have powers.”

She rubs her eyes, whispering, “How are you so good to me?”

He uses a tentacle to wipe away her tears, “That’s what friends are for, aren’t they? And since you’re the only one I seem to have now, I may as well focus all the best parts on you.”

She laughs weakly, snagging a tentacle to squeeze reassuringly, “I hope I am as good to you as you are to me.”

“You are, Taylor. You’re all that and more. Promise.”

She curls around him, and he picks her up with such love and care, she can’t help but relax. She rests on him as he carries her back to their camp, and she says softly, knowing he can hear her easily, “I’m glad, since you’re so good to me. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

He moves a tentacle, and puts it in her hand, squeezing softly. She squeezes back as Ned says, “I know what i’d be doing without you, and I’m glad that I’m doing what I’m doing now. Being with my best friend, who cares about me, and I can protect her with all my might.”

She giggles, it’s weak and watery, “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

More tears wiped away with loving care, “So am I.” He places the thin blanket they have on her, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I won’t ever let you forget it.”

She finds her eyelids fluttering closed, even as she struggles to keep them open. “Me-” she yawns, and what she says comes out as more of a mutter than anything as she drifts down to sleep, “Me, too.” Her breathing evens out, and she falls asleep. 

Emotional outbursts are exhausting, and she hasn’t been getting all the calories she needs. A nap will only help her, and she will wake refreshed and happier. Or that’s the hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG WARNING: This note is long, and mostly me rambling about my mental health. Feel free to skip it.
> 
> I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. I’m doing slightly better mentally than I have been. I suppose it helps that I’ve been writing again, and it is… calming. It is calming to be able to work without pressure. 
> 
> Even if it is only because I’m posting Worm on Thursday; my ‘if I have anything, sure why not show it off’ day. Tuesday being my ‘gotta post something no matter what’ day is now Transformers fic, and the backlog for [i]that[/i] is almost absurd. It takes so much pressure off me, I’ve been doing better.
> 
> It also helps that I have medical insurance now. I hadn’t had any for most of the year since I was so sick from January to March, just coughing and dying. Then the plague showed up and seems to be here to stay, so I was scared to leave, not wanting to be sick [i]again[/i]. It does [i]not[/i] help that I’m in one of the states where nobody fucking wears a mask unless the store they’re walking into says they’ll be kicked out if they don’t wear one. But I worked up my courage, covered myself entirely for safety, and made my way to get insurance.
> 
> Now I have my safety net, pain medications, and a doctor’s appointment to go to eventually. A lot is off my mind, and I’m happier. 
> 
> Still, don’t expect too much once I’m done posting this fic’s finished chapters. I need to keep my head above the water when it comes to stress. Feeling pressured to do more by my overactive anxiety, even with assurances by readers that they understand, meant that I was unable to write even my usual minimum amount of words a day. A minimum I set to just encourage myself to write, with the stipulation that if I missed days they were [i]not[/i] to be added to the next day’s minimum. This was done so that my anxiety can’t guilt me into doing more than is healthy.
> 
> Being able to just know that my next fic will be published on Tuesday, even if Transformers will inevitably be AO3 exclusive, takes so much pressure off. 
> 
> ANYWAY! I hope you enjoyed reading the chapter. The song I suggested is one I’ve had saved ever since I wrote this fic, all that time ago. It’s been in my ‘Fic Songs’ playlist for ages. I firmly feel the song fits this fic as well as Home by Edward Shape and the Magnetic Zeros.
> 
> TL;DR: My mental health is better, my anxiety driven required to post days are Tuesdays, Transformers is likely going to be there since I have so many stories, please listen to Love Like You since it fits the chapter (and entire fic just like the song Home).


	7. Sewing and Planning

Sewing is kind of weird when it is all she can do all day, making her own costume on top of Ned. It’s kind of okay, just not the best. She’s making it into a fluffy dress, since making leather pants is a case of doing way too much sewing. No thanks. 

Well, less a dress, and more a skirt and a tanktop she’s sewing sleeves on. While she wears that with other clothes on underneath, since leather on skin is not comfortable for extended periods of time. Rather, it isn't a feeling she likes. Some people supposedly do, but she imagines those people are wearing things made more professionally than her stabbing at the leather with a sturdy needle and heavy thread.

She would make pants if she had a sewing machine, though. Since she doesn’t, that’s not happening. She’d make a lot of things if she had a sewing machine, honestly. 

Her father’s suggestion to be civilized and happy has clearly fallen by the wayside at this point, due to how she is smeared with dried blood on her face and parts of her arms, and likely looks half-crazed. That’s from butchering a deer earlier, and a lack of a river next to them at the moment. Her hair is okay, though. She washes it every day, and Ned combs it. She has no clue how bad she smells, but she does use soap, so there’s that.

Ned says she smells fine, and his sense of smell is way better than hers. She just needs to trust that, but it is hard to when she remembers he didn’t even react much to the scent of the biowaste in her locker. Granted, that could _easily_ be her power bridging the gap for her to be more important? 

Still… she’s pretty sure her power only works on sight, not anything else. So him not caring before is something to keep in mind. As such, she makes a note to buy another bar of deodorant and some clothing detergent. She needs it so much, and she goes through more than she probably should. Feels very wasteful, honestly. Maybe one of those laundry soap bars instead?

Right now, though, she’s carefully sewing Ned’s claws onto the belt. “Are you sure I should do this?” He put holes in the claws for her to sew through them, since she sure as hell can't use a needle for that.

He hums agreeably, “Of course. Shows that I have you under my protection.”

“I don’t think there’s a single person who believes that aside from us and dad.” She winces when she stabs her finger with the needle, and keeps sewing. 

“Well, it is what it is. I’m still keeping you with me and keeping you safe. Here was that bear-”

“The bear was across the river, and took one look at you before running away.”

Ned adjusts how she’s sitting with a tentacle, and she just moves with it automatically. He says, a little irritably, “But if I wasn’t here, it totally would have tried something.”

“It’s weird that it was even out and about, honestly. It’s winter, and-”

“Why should it be asleep when there is no snow on the ground?”

“Yeah, true.” She makes a face as she adds the last stitch on the belt, “There.” She pushes it into one of his tentacles, and digs through a bag, “What do you think?”

He snaps it in the air a few times, “Looks good to me.”

She takes the belt back, tucking it in with the rest of the homemade clothing, “So, we’re pretty close to a big city, right?”

“I wouldn’t call it big, but it does have an okay PRT building. Shatterbird made a comment about wanting to sing at any city with one, once, and then got out maps pointing them out.”

“Weird.”

“It is.” He walks a little faster, “So… when are you gonna try on your costume?”

“It isn’t done, so not now.” She tugs out the little shawl she’s working on, “I should learn how to make shoes, since the ones I have now don’t match with the furs.”

“I’ll stop you off near a library, and you can look it up.”

“Thanks.” She starts to sew up the edges of the shawl, “So, is my costume a little armored, since it is made of leather? Like, more than normal clothing?”

Ned shrugs, “I guess? Not enough, if you’re actually fighting.” He pauses, and she looks around to figure out what he’s seeing. “I have an idea for actual armor.”

She looks down at him, worried, “What?”

“How about more of me?”

“What are you-”

She shrieks, cutting line of thought off, as Ned tears into himself, pulling off a chunk of his armored belly, and plopping it on her lap. “This!” he exclaims cheerfully.

“No!” She grabs his tentacle, holding it, “No! No, no no! No more! I don’t… I just…”

He pats her, “Hey, it’s okay. I can take off as much as you need. Anything so you’re safe. I don’t-”

“No!” She holds him tighter, “Don’t… don’t do this! Please!”

“I’m fine,” he says, waving a tentacle. “I can easily take off more-”

“No! Do not! I… I’ll use this bit,” she reluctantly pokes the armored chunk on her lap, feeling dizzy. “Just… no more. Please?” She rubs at her eyes, “For me? Don’t do this, it makes me…” She thinks she’s crying, but all she can feel is upset. “I hate you doing this.”

He wraps tentacles around her in a hug, “Hey. Okay. No more. I won’t rip myself up just to make you armor. It’s just that my skin and things are the toughest armor you’re gonna get, and I want you safe.”

She holds him tight, shaking, “I don’t want my safety to come at your pain. You’re my best friend, and…” It feels like he has a deathwish, she doesn’t say.

What can she do, if she loses him?

He rubs her back with care, and says, “It’s okay. I won’t do it again. No more tearing off my skin so you can wear it. Got it.” He taps her lightly on the nose, “But I’m still giving you claws, alright? Maybe make gloves with them on the fingertip? Look up how to do that online, too. I want you to be able to defend yourself.”

She nods slowly, blinking, “O-okay.” She swallows, “So… how… how about I… I make you something as a costume?”

He snorts, “Like what?”

“How about a mask?”

“Okay,” he agrees, smile clear in his tone. “You make me a mask, and I’ll wear it when you wear your costume. How does that sound?”

“I like that.” 

He ruffles her hair with a tentacle, “Good.”

She stares down for a long while, long enough Ned starts moving again. Finally, she says softly, “You said that Riley was trying to get parts of you. How can you rip _yourself_ apart?”

He shrugs, “Power bullshit, maybe? Also, I’d never told Riley, remember?”

She does remember, but still, “It doesn't make sense?”

“I imagine it is because I _want_ to be able to modify myself how I choose. I keep the previous additions, but this way if something is truly heinous, I can remove it. One time, I was breaking a toxic gas, so I told Jack I was going to go hunting, and reached into my throat, ripping out the little organ thing that grew-”

“Stop!” She drops her sewing supplies, knowing Ned will grab them before they hit the ground. The items are tucked into the bags around her as she clings to Ned, shaking. “Don’t. I…. please. Ned, you’re so dear to me, and I can’t lose you. Please don’t talk of _mutilating_ yourself.”

He pulls her off his back, the bags set to the side with care, and he adjusts how he’s sitting. He tugs her closer, and she wraps her arms around him the best she can, clinging tightly. When her breathing slows, her shoulders droop, and she’s no longer holding so very tightly, he says, “It’s the past, and I won’t do more than I did. I love you dearly, Taylor. You’re the most important person in the world to me, and I’ll do my best not to hurt you by hurting myself.”

She’s back to holding him tight, shaking a little, but unable to help it. “You’re so important to _me_ , Ned.” She can’t say she loves him, it feels like a step too far. Much better to keep it to her best friend. He’s older than her by a few years, and she doesn’t dare do more. 

In some ways, he acts younger than her, but in so many more, he is too protective to be anything other than a brother figure. She loves him so much, but admitting it feels wrong. It’s probably from the years of abuse in high school, since the few psychology books she’s read seem to support getting _out_ of an abusive environment. But they also stress how she needs time, and the ability to mentally unwind and unlearn her previous coping methods. 

So she just clings to him, hoping beyond anything, that things will be okay. It has to be okay. 

She’s free of her past, and they only have the future to rush forward into.

\--

Taylor presses her hands to Ned’s face, counting out how many handwidths it will take, “Nineteen, twenty…. Okay.” She moves to allow him to pick her up onto his back, “Likely need more than that, to tie it. Are you sure you want it made of deerskin? Mine is that weasel, and…”

He snorts, “It’s fine. You’d need to stitch a fair amount together if we don’t use a large animal. I can go catch a bear?”

“We don’t need bear leather, Ned.” She digs around in her bags, pulling out the tanned hide they keep making off any kills. “Besides, this is already here.”

“You’re the one who suggested a different animal.”

Taylor shakes her head, taking the knife to cut the leather on his back as she measures it out. “Would you like more than a mask?”

“Can you think of anything that would work? It isn’t like I have a secret identity any longer.” He tucks her jacket around her, “Neither do you, really.”

She sighs, “I know.” She tucks the knife away, and works on hemming the mask, “But masks are traditional, when you’re a cape.”

“That is very true.” He snaps a tentacle out, and grumbles irritably as there’s a flash of feathers and angry chirping as the bird gets away. “Mock me, will you?”

“Someday,” she says, patting his head. “Now, I’m going to need something for the soles of the boots, once I make them. Any suggestions?”

“Since you won’t let me give you bits of me, we could go catch a hardier sort of animal. Or maybe a chunk of wood that has leather bound around it. Not like we have any rubber, just around.”

“We should have taken that tire we saw in the woods a week ago.”

“Hindsight.”

She sighs, “Yeah. Next time we see abandoned tires, we’ll keep it in mind.”

“You do know that tires have wire running through them, right? So you can't just easily cut them up with the knife.”

Blinking, Taylor asks, “What? They do?”

“Yes, for stability. Don’t worry, if we find one, I’ll cut it up into a proper shape for you.” He pokes her foot, “And you have enough socks?”

“I’ll buy more and some underwear when we get to the next town.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

\--

Tugging on the armored section connected to her belt, Taylor hops up and down in front of Ned, “How’s this?”

He adjusts a few things, evening up the skirt of her dress, and adjusting the fall of her shawl. “Better. I think you shouldn’t bother with a costume if you’re by yourself, though.”

She snorts, poking him, “If you want, you can put on your mask and come with me to the latest town.”

Ned groans, “People will call the cops and PRT and, ugh, why?”

Grinning, Taylor leans on him, “Because you’ve said you want to pick out proper food. Maybe in a restaurant? Give this a try? Capes are given a certain amount of privacy if they’re in costume in some towns. You said this one has a few capes, even.”

“Yeah, just one adult and a Ward. Called…“ he waves a tentacle, searching for the names, “Fuck. I don’t know. You think I memorized these things? I only know about the Ward due to Burnscar talking about her.”

“Why did Burnscar care?” Seems weird, so she has to ask.

“Fire powers. Something she looked into. Like how I liked knowing about capes with adaptive powers. Aegis in Brockton Bay was interesting to me on that count.” He looks at her with a smile, “Not so much now, of course.”

She nods with a small smile, then looks in the direction of the town, “Any villains?”

“One, I think. Maybe two, if another showed up, but I severely doubt it. For all I know, that one is long gone, too. It’s more sensible to leave quickly, if there’s more than one hero if you’re a single villain in a place. Especially if they get a Ward. The PRT are super protective. Hurt one, and they send another adult to take the aggressor down in this sort of place.”

“Can’t really blame them, right?”

“The PRT is supposed to keep children safe, or so the pamphlets said. Which I only really know about since Riley talked about it in the case of Jack keeping her safe with the Nine.”

Taylor can’t stop her scoff at that.

That gets a sad sort of sigh, “Yeah, Jack is a piece of shit, but we knew that.”

“Fuck Jack Slash!” Taylor yells cheerfully. Hopping onto Ned’s back, she adjusts how things are sitting, her dress laying surprisingly elegantly.

“Fuck Jack Slash,” Ned repeats with a grin in his voice. “So, should we try getting something to eat? I want… A cake.”

Her mouth waters, and she stares at the town, just imagining it. “Yes. Fuck, yes. Let’s go get a meal and cake. That sounds amazing.”

“Chocolate cake,” he says, walking a little faster. “With buttercream frosting, and three layers.”

“Maybe some cream cheese frosting, if not buttercream. Not something from a can, anyway. If I wanted that, I’d just go to a Walmart and pick one up, or we do a makeshift oven with a mix.”

“If we can’t get a cake, we’ll do the mix, and live with the inevitable burned bits,” Ned says, sounding reluctant. “You have that metal pot thing.”

“Cast iron dutch oven,” she corrects, rapping her knuckles on the sack with it. “Easy to clean with just sand and water, but I’m… so tired of campfire cooking, Ned. So tired.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She leans on him, excited for the idea of food she doesn’t need to cook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was expanded a fair deal in the editing.


	8. Eat and Meet

When they get into town, Taylor glances at a sign that has the time actually on it, and says slowly, “One in the afternoon… ish.”

They glance around, and there don’t seem to be many people at all around, which is pretty good for their plan, but also a little worrying, if they were spotted, and the places have been evacuated. Which hasn’t happened yet, granted, but that’s not to say it won’t. Besides, it isn’t like they’ve done this where both of them are together, instead of just Taylor.

Spotting a restaurant, she points at it, “Italian place.” Looks like a hole in the wall sort of thing, but it does have an open sign up.

Ned opens the door, and they get in. The person in the front stares at them in shock, then he says, voice shaking, “Wel-welcome to M-Mon-Mondo’s. T-table for t-t-two?”

Smiling cheerfully, Taylor says brightly, “Yup! I do have a question, though. Do you have any cake?”

The guy nods, “Yeah… Grandmama always has some made every morning. Would you like me to reserve two slices, so we don’t run out before you finish your meal?” That sounds like something the man has said many times, so can manage it without stuttering.

“Reserve four,” Ned says.

The poor man says, almost vacantly, “Policy says one slice per person.”

Ned chuffs a small laugh, “Then just the two.”

Taylor giggles behind her hand, surprised at how well the man is taking this. It does speak well for her and Ned wandering through other cities and towns. If the waitstaff of this place can inform a former member of the Slaughterhouse Nine that he doesn’t get an extra slice of cake, Taylor’s power might be papering over things well enough to let them do more. As such, she prompts in a gentle tone, “Could you take us to our table?”

The man nods, grabbing blindly at the menus as he keeps his eyes on them. She can count five menus in his hands as he leads them to a table that has just enough room for Ned to safely sit, and a chair on the other side for her. When she sits down, the man places all the menus on the table, saying, “What would you like to drink?”

“Give me a pitcher of water,” Ned says.

Glancing at the drinks on the menu, she says cheerfully, “Oh! Lemonade! Is it the mix or-”

“Fresh,” the waiter says, instantly, cutting her off in his nervousness. “Papa makes it.”

“That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the waiter says, and hurries away.

Looking through the menu, she says, “I think I want the eggplant parmesan. What about you?” She tugs out her cellphone, putting in the battery to turn it on.

“I’m getting…” Ned flips the menu over, then hums, “It all sounds amazing.”

“This is the first time in forever you’re getting a meal just for you. I’ll send dad a text, see what our spending budget is, and we can let you order in that.” She sends her text, and smiles when the response is quick. “Oh! It’s Friday!” She grins at him, “Payday! Dad says we can treat you.”

Ned perks up, “Wonderful! Tell him thank you, for me, Innocent.”

She rolls her eyes, but realizes they are masked up. If this continues, they’re going to have to get used to cape names. Sending him the text back, she says cheerfully, “Dad will want me to call him once we’re done, Crawler.” She pauses, realizing something, “Do you think we should change your cape name? To distance you from those jerks?”

Ned taps his mouth, “Maybe. Any ideas?”

She shrugs, “Not really. Something to think about.”

The waiter returns with their drinks, and a basket of bread, “Are you ready to order?”

Taylor looks at Ned, and he nods, “Innocent would like eggplant parmesan, and I would like gnocchi, the ravioli, and the Risotto. We’d also like the appetizer sampler.”

The man writes the last of the order, “I’ll be out as soon as possible.” He grabs for the menus, but misses twice from still nervously looking at Ned, so Taylor has pity on him, and places them in his hands. “Thank you,” he murmurs, and hurries away just slow enough it can’t exactly be considered running.

Ned eats one of the rolls, “I missed good bread.”

She takes one, herself, and butters it. Eating it, she sighs happily, “This is so good. Makes me wish I’d ordered soup to dip it in.”

“We can,” Ned suggests.

She shakes her head, “No, I already have a plate of food and a slice of cake, in addition to sharing those appetizers. 

“I could eat it,” he says, grinning.

Rolling her eyes, she reaches across the table, poking his nose, “Nope.”

He chuckles, a low rumble that seems to worry the visible staff. She glances around, frowning. The customers seem to be gone now, for some reason. She hopes them eating here won’t do too much to their profits. This is clearly family run, and they do need to have enough to pay for things.

But eating bread is just… delightful. A slow progress through the basket, which is quickly replaced, and their drinks refilled along with the appetizers. She can’t help the small clapping of her hands when it is placed in front of them, and beams up at the waiter. “Thank you!”

The young man smiles nervously, “Your food will be ready before long.”

“Sounds good,” Ned says easily, snagging a stick of cheese, and eating it with clear pleasure.

Well, clear to Taylor, since the poor waiter looks distressed, and hurries away. She shrugs, taking the breaded zucchini, and nibbling on it. Normally, she hates the vegetable, but she thinks it is a sign of how much she misses good greenery from how delicious it is.

She dips her next one in the sauce, letting warmth spread through her as she eats. Looking at Ned, she says, “So… do you think you could order me a glass of wine?”

He gives her an annoyed look, “Tay- Innocent, I’m twenty, and you know it. And it is widely known that I’m not actually old enough to buy alcohol legally.” He shakes his head, “Even if I _was_ old enough to, I don’t have a legal ID to show them.”

She huffs, “You don’t know what the people here know.”

“I’m not getting you alcohol, no matter what.”

She sticks her tongue out at him, “Some friend you are.”

He rolls his eyes, “I’m not sure how much of a lightweight you are, and I’m certain your father would be deeply upset if I got you drunk. Especially since I am unable to even be affected by it.”

She snags a toasted ravioli, “How do you know that?”

“One of the first things Jack did once he got his hands on me was shove far too much heavy liquor down my throat. So, not only do I not have good memories of being drunk when it happened, but I also remember being poisoned by it. Which would have been fine, but there’s only so much cheap rotgut you can stand, even if it will never kill you.”

She makes a face, “Couldn’t have tasted any good.” She’s heard stories from her father and various dockworkers about cheap alcohol that isn’t beer. And she’s not fond of beer when she’s tried it, either.

“It wasn’t,” he agrees.

“Well, fuck Jack Slash for doing that then.” There’s a small gasp from across the room, and one of the waitresses asks a coworker if you can even say that. Taylor is tempted to repeat it, because fuck anyone who hurt Ned, really. 

Still, she knows she has a protected sort of status. These people _don’t_. She remembers the terror of the name any of the Nine can bring. Like saying their names means you’re inviting them in. Cursing them, when they haven't hurt someone you know or love, is worse. Like the one saying it is just demanding they show up, more than inviting. 

And no one wants the Nine to come to their city.

Across the table Ned chuckles, swiping another roll, saying,“There are worse things than drinking swill. Most of them aren’t appropriate for the dinner table.” He grins at her, popping the bread into his mouth. 

“I’m sure our hosts would prefer not to hear.” Taylor replies. The waiter coming with their meals gives her a look that is relief mixed with worry. At least no one is calling the police or trying to ‘rescue’ her. “Thank you.”

She watches the waiter go, and then takes a bite of her eggplant. It is so good. “Do you want to try a bite of mine?”

Ned has already practically dumped half his plate of ravioli into his mouth, but he eyes her plate contemplatively anyway. “Yes,” he finally decides, “But only if you try some of mine.”

Taylor reaches across the table for his fork, which is still neatly wrapped up in his napkin. Once it’s free she cuts off a piece to give to him. “Here, in exchange for...some risotto.” 

Ned would probably let her have some of all three, but she doesn’t think that would be very fair. He wraps a tentacle around her offered fork, eating the piece of eggplant with more poise than he gave to his ravioli. At the same time he pushes the appropriate place closer to her so she can help herself.

“I was right, nothing on the menu could have been a wrong pick. If we come here again, I’ll have to try something else.” Coming here again would be a treat. Unfortunately, Taylor isn’t sure repeat visits to the same restaurant is wise. It’s amazing how many mundane things can turn into luxuries under the right circumstances. Speaking of luxuries…

“Remind me to use their washroom before we get out of here.” She misses indoor plumbing. Ned nods, tapping her with a tentacle by way of answer. He’s already gone back to eating with gusto. Taylor takes a slower pace, savoring her food. It’s so nice having something that isn’t flavored with campfire smoke.

“Maybe we can stop by a camping store and ask for campfire baking tips.” Ned’s clearly thinking ahead here. Just because they were going to have cake soon, didn’t mean they couldn’t have cake later.

“We can do that. Maybe after, we can see if we can buy some extra tools.” 

”Sensible,” Ned says. “Any thought on what you’d want?”

She hums, taking another bite of food to let her think. “A whisk would be nice. Maybe another frying pan or something?”

“Some oil?” he suggests.

Perking up, Taylor nods, “That would be nice.”

They end up talking about the things they’ll want and need through the entire dinner, and it is trailing off once the cake comes out. The waiter putting it in front of them with a strained smile, “I hope you enjoy it!”

She grins at him, “We will! Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” the young man says, and hurries off.

Ned actually picks up his fork in a tentacle, and carefully scoops up a little bit. He puts it in his mouth, humming appreciatively. Taylor’s own bite has her joining them. It’s too good to be distracted by talk, and they end up devouring it in happy silence.

\--

Stepping out of the restaurant, Taylor automatically hops onto Ned’s back, and absently adjusts her skirt. There’s a cough, one clearly done to get their attention, and she jerks her head up to look. Blinking, she stares at a woman with a black visor, green costume with brown trimming, and does a quick glance at the smaller girl behind her with a red costume with flame accents.

She perks up, “Oh! Ned! … Ah… Crawler! These must be the heroes!” She points at the young girl, who looks about fourteen or fifteen, “That’s the ward you told me about!” She’s allowed to be excited, she’s never been so close to a Ward before, much less a Protectorate hero. It’s amazing.

The heroine, however, steps further steps in front of the Ward, hiding her from sight. … kinda. The ward keeps peering around the lady, and grins and waves at her. Excited at being acknowledged, she waves back with a huge smile. 

“Hi!” she calls, then claps her hands. “This is so great! Ned! Heroes! I’ve never seen any like this before! Hi!”

Ned snorts, then waves a tentacle at them with her, “Cape names, Innocent. Cape names. I know you’re not used to it, but you need to try.”

She flushes, dropping her hands, feeling like she’s all of twelve years old. “Sorry. You’re right.” She coughs, fidgeting with her bustle, made of his own carapace. “You talk to them, you know these things better than me.”

“Innocent, they think I’m a monster, and-”

“You’re not a monster!” she yells, unable to help it. “You’re my only friend!” Taylor flinches, realizing she’s making too much noise, when it is silent all around them. She says, softer, “Sorry. I just… You saved me, and you care about me. You’re not a monster.”

He snorts, “I’m your monster.”

She’s about to insist he isn’t when the hero in front of them says in a commanding voice, “Crawler, release her.”

“What?” she says, accidentally echoing Ned, who sounds even more confused than she does.

Ned asks, almost cautiously, “You did hear what Innocent just said, right?”

The heroine’s mouth thins to a line, but the Ward hides her own mouth behind a red gloved hand, clearly giggling. The heroine says, voice tight, “Yes, but I am to free the innocent from Slaughterhouse Nine members.”

“Ned isn’t part of those bastards!” she yells, offended. “Fuck Jack Slash!”

That makes the heroine and the Ward flinch, and right after, the heroine glances around, as if expecting Jack Slash to jump out and attack somehow. 

Ned sighs, “Use my cape name, Innocent. Please?” At her reluctant nod, he turns back to the Heroine, “As she said, I’m not part of them anymore. In fact, I have no interest in fighting and killing anyone other than self defense. If Jack hadn’t gotten me, I wouldn’t have joined at all. From now on, I am planning on keeping Innocent safe. She is….”

She hugs one of his tentacles, “We’re best friends.” She stares at them defiantly, finally saying how she does feel, since he matters so much, “I love him very much.” He’s her _best friend_ and he means more to her than Emma ever did, due to Emma’s betrayal and hurt. There is no love in that now, only the flip to hate that burns so bright. 

He sighs, shrugging, “What she said.”

“Ah….” The Heroine looks baffled, a surprising drop of the jaw that slowly closes. “... She is underage, and-”

“Not like that!” Taylor says, shocked. “What is… what are you….” She curls closer to Ned, “Ned has been nothing but a gentleman!” Glaring slightly, she says, “You’re very rude.”

The Ward peeks around the Heroine again, looking over the pair of them. “Gosh, they look like regular friends to me, what does age have to do with it?” The girl gets shoved back behind the Heroine, who clears her throat.

“Nothing! Don’t worry about it!” She squints at them, leveling Taylor with a particularly searching look that Taylor returns with an exaggerated huff. The cape seems to find whatever she’s looking for though, because she eventually sighs. “So let me get this straight: You are friends.”

“Yes.”

“And Crawler has not only left the Nine, but has done so so he can protect you?”

“That is what they said!” The Ward chirps. “I don’t think it’s that hard to follow. I mean, isn’t this really great? I think it’s really great!” The girl grins up at her guardian. “Plus, it doesn’t look like there’s any carnage or wreckage, so I think maybe reports have been exaggerated?”

That gets the Ward a tired look. Taylor has to wonder how often she gets away with chiming in like this, but maybe the Heroine she’s with is just used to it now. Especially because the heroine actually does look around the street and even peers into the restaurant window. 

“Maybe,” she says at last.

“So...can we go now? We haven’t done anything wrong or caused any damage.” Taylor’s question makes the woman’s face scrunch up. It’s clear she wants to say no, but there really is no damage, no one is hurt, and her own partner seems to think Taylor is hanging out with Ned willingly. Which she is, so why should anyone think otherwise?

“...Alright. I’m going to give you a number though. If anything, absolutely anything comes up and you need help, you call it. Okay?” Taylor supposes this is the best compromise they are going to get, even if she doesn’t really want to think about the fact this woman absolutely expects her to call the number.

She pulls out her phone, and opens the contacts, “Alright, what’s the number?” The Heroine rattles it off, and the phone alerts her to the fact that she has this already. Looking up, she says flatly, “That’s the Protectorate national hotline. I have that.”

The ward says cheerfully, “Use mine!” Taylor inputs the string of numbers, and the Ward says cheerfully, “I’m Kid Flame!” With that, the girl pops out from behind the Heroine, and bursts into fire, in what must be a breaker state. “I’m awesome!”

She blinks, then grins, “You look great!” Taylor claps her hands as Kid Flame does a few cartwheels and backflips. Then the girl hops three times, and does something that likely has some fancy name, but all she can describe it as is a triple flip.

Ned claps his tentacles, “Impressive.”

Kid Flame bows to them several times, while the Heroine looks very close to facepalming. Kid Fire rushes back, saying cheerfully, “Normally I gotta fight people to do that, so that’s cool.” The girl pauses, tilting her head, “So… Huh. I don’t wanna punch someone. Weird.”

The Heroine looks thoughtful, which is really impressive, due to just the mouth showing. Do Protectorate heroes get acting lessons? Since this is … wow. 

The Heroine looks at them, saying, “So… would you please leave the town? Crawler _does_ have a kill order on him, and I’m obligated to attack him. As such-”

Kid Flame gasps loudly, “We can't attack them! We’re _friends_ , Terricade!”

Terricade looks pained, “Flame… we can’t just let them stay and-”

Taylor says, “So… since we’re friends now, can I get a shower or-”

“You would need to join the Wards,” Terricade interrupts. “You are… Uh, innocent of any crimes that we know of, so…” Terricade looks vaguely confused for some reason, saying slowly, “You are welcome to… get cleaned up.” The woman frowns, “But Crawler can not.”

“He’s harmless. Right, N- Crawler?”

Ned sounds deeply amused as he says, “Completely, Innocent. I wouldn’t hurt a hair on your head.”

“Or theirs, right?” Taylor adds, poking him lightly.

“Exactly. No one will be hurt unless they attack us first.”

Terricade opens her mouth, closes it, and opens it again to say, “We… we can't…” The woman frowns, “Please leave.”

Kid Flame looks like she wants to argue, but Taylor feels like _she_ is the reason why the poor woman is so… confused and acting oddly. “We’ll go ahead and go,” she agrees.

Ned shrugs, “Well, talk to your dad as we leave, he said he wanted to talk to you.”

Kid Flame hurries to them, “I’ll escort you out!”

Terricade grabs the girl, pulling her back, “Absolutely not! Wards do _not_ do that sort of thing, and I will need to keep a closer eye on you.” The woman frowns again, looking at her in bafflement, almost radiating it. “Please leave, Crawler and The Innocent.”

Taylor has to add, “We’re thinking about new names for Crawler. To show he has changed.”

Terricade says nothing, just looking confused. While Kid Fire says cheerfully, “Call me when you figure it out! I’ll tell everyone!”

Taylor nods, waving as they head back out, “I will! Thank you, Kid Flame!”

“Thank you, Innocent!”

\--

When they get back to where the road turns to gravel, and Taylor is no longer talking to her father, she says slowly, “So… that was weird.”

Ned snorts, “It was. Nothing to worry about, though. We’ll figure out a new name for me soon enough. Don’t worry.”

“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

Ned shrugs, pulling out a book from a bag, “Your power was likely overloading Terricade’s knowledge of how dangerous I am. So she was fighting it, while it was insisting you’re safe and need protection. Since I’m the best protection you can get, then they don’t need to join us without invitation, and they can’t get rid of me or you’d be less safe.”

“That seems… plausible.” She chews on her lower lip, fingers in her hair and twisting it nervously, “I just… She was really expressive, wasn’t she?”

“Kid Flame? Yeah, real cheerful brat. I like her.”

“No, I mean Terricade.”

“Hard to be expressive with just the mouth there. She was pretty stonefaced, from what I could see.”

Taylor leans back, thinking. After a bit, staring at the sky, she finally says, “...weird.”

Ned shrugs, “Should I read this to you?” 

She glances at the book, and smiles. Grabbing her sewing, she says, “Yeah. I’d like to listen to you read A Light in the Attic.” She rolls slightly, so she’s on her back, and Ned moves her a bit so she’s now laying with her head on his. She pats a tentacle, and relaxes, kind of sewing as he reads.

It’s just… comfortable, and she’s so happy. Her eyes drift closed, and she lays in the sun as her very best friend reads her poems.


	9. Chapter 9

“Try monstrous,” Ned suggests, after they’ve been going through this for the last hour.

“You know I don’t like the villainous ones,” Taylor mutters, as she is cradled in Ned’s tentacles while he walks, rocking her lightly as they go down what looks like a barren sort of gravel road. “How about... “ She flips through the thesaurus that she got in a library book sale, “Uh….” She stares at the synonyms for the word, “Not these.”

“Tell me.”

She makes a face, “I don’t like them.”

“Tell me the worst one, and I’ll tell you if we should use it or not.”

“I won’t. They’re mean. I’m going to tell you ones where it means large, instead of unnatural.” She perks up, “Yeah, these are better. How about Colossal?” 

“Not bad, but it doesn’t really… fit. I’m not super huge or anything. I can fit through doors.”

“You’re big enough to just carry me around.”

“Tell me more.”

“Gargantuan.”

“Too close to Behemoth, really.”

She hums, nodding in agreement. Not an association they want with them, that’s a certainty. “I like Magnificent.”

“As flattering as that is, I’m pretty sure there’s a hero with that name. One who actually got away from Jack at some point, and I don’t want her to think I’m mocking her.”

Taylor’s never heard of her, but she must live up to the name to have escaped. “Monumental.”

“Would imply I make things in some way, or that’s how I feel it sounds.”

“I can see that. How about…” she ignores the animalistic ones, since she genuinely wants Ned to have more emphasis on his humanity. “ …Prodigious?”

“Maybe. How about you check synonyms of that?”

A flip through the book leads her to the word, and she glances through it, “Let’s go with the meaning that’s like extraordinary and fabulous. Astounding.”

“Unless we’re adding modifiers to a name, I don’t think that would work.”

She frowns, “Most of them are like that.”

“Here.” He takes the book, and closes it before flipping it open to choose a page at random. It gets placed back in her hands, and he taps a word blindly, “What’s this one?”

“Castaway?”

“Oh, that’s nice.” He moves to the side of the road, and a glance shows that there’s a hole large enough to drop a moose in it, “What are some for that?”

She glances through it, choosing the best of the batch, “Pariah, Renegade, Waif.”

“I like Pariah. Too bad you already have a name we aren’t trying to distance ourselves from, or you could go with Waif.”

“I’ll add Pariah to the list.” She grabs the clipboard, and scribbles it down, glancing at the other names, “It seems to be the best so far, too. I’m still not fond of Fiend.”

“And we’ve agreed, anything too kind means people think that we’re hiding who I am.”

She rolls her eyes, “I know, I know. But we kind of are, right?”

“Everyone knows who we are, but this way we can pretend no one knows. Paperthin is to our benefit, not a complete reworking of ourselves. Not if we want to remain on the Protectorate’s good side, as fragile as that is.”

She sighs, “I know, I know. It seems… dumb, though. I just… we have no true private identities. You’re Crawler, I’m the Innocent, and they think either you kidnapped me, or I ran away by mastering you.”

“When, in fact,” Ned says, sounding deeply amused, “it is a mix of both.”

“I like my powers more as a weird stranger effect,” she mutters, knowing Ned thinks of it as a sort of joke. But she does realize her powers are a blend, and she has no actual control over it, just how Ned wants it. He’s scared he’ll react badly if her powers stop and he no longer feels things again, while she is reasonably certain that he won’t ever betray her. 

He’s her best friend, and does all he can to keep her safe. Unlike the traitor.

She grabs one of his tentacles, squeezing it comfortingly. She knows he cares about her, and she cares just as deeply about him. If something happened to him, she doesn’t know what she’d do. Burn the whole world down, maybe. She bets he feels the same way.

\--

Taylor looks at the shelf in front of her with discerning eyes. She isn’t sure how she feels about the local candy, but it looks okay. She guesses. One has a proud sign that says it is made in this town, and sold only here, so she grabs it. White raspberry flavor. 

She has no idea what that even means, but sure. 

If it tastes just like every other raspberry flavor, she is going to be super unimpressed. It says all natural ingredients, but lots of things say that. Hemlock is natural and she wouldn’t eat that.

She grabs a few bags of family sized chips, and declares her snack run done enough. But that doesn’t stop her from stalling a bit to choose a few more things. As long as she keeps it under twenty bucks, it should be fine. 

In fact, she sees they’re selling a bag of _just_ rye chips. She didn’t even know that was a thing, but she is _not_ complaining. ...she carefully puts back one of the chip bags to get two more of the rye chip bags. Potato chips can be found in any gas station.

This is something she loves in an amount she did not realize exists. Part of her lowkey wants Ned to inform her that he hates them, so she gets them all to herself. Even if it means no family sized bag of chips for her to share with Ned, and he gets it all.

She flits around a few more aisles, poking through various things, and finally buying a very cheap plastic cup of the melty cheese that more resembles plastic than actual cheese. But she knows Ned will enjoy it, plastic cup and all. It even has little chunks of jalapeno in it. Which is too spicy for her white and bland taste buds, but she knows Ned will be pleased about it. 

She tucks the last of it in the small basket she is carrying, and heads to the front, only to freeze when some idiot rushes in with a gun. The man doesn’t look at her, just aims directly at the cashier, screaming about giving him all the money. She stares at the man in shock, not really sure how to respond, since the cashier just focuses entirely on _her_ , and not the man actively threatening his life.

She coughs, attempting to get the shooter’s attention, Only for the man to wildly point a _different_ gun in his other arm in her general direction, still focused on the cashier, “I don’t want any funny business!”

“Sir,” the cashier starts, still staring at Taylor and trying to make discrete motions to shoo her away, “we need to be reasonable about-” 

The man shoots at the cashier, missing him and hitting the case of cigarettes behind him. “Next one hits you! Gimme the cash!”

The poor cashier hurriedly focuses on the cash register, fumbling to get it open. Taking this chance, Taylor says, “Why are you robbing-”

And she has to quickly dodge as the fucking moron swings the gun blindly. Then, somehow, the man shoots right where she used to be, hitting the case of cold drinks she had been standing in front of. What the actual fuck.

“Shut up! I need money, and you shut up, or I’ll shoot you again!”

“Don’t shoot at her!” the cashier yells, and throws the stool he’d been sitting on at the robber. It hits the man bodily, and there is another pair of shots going on, one clipping the cashier, and the other hitting the cold drinks case again. 

That gets the man knocked for a loop, and he _finally_ looks at Taylor. Almost instantly, the man freezes, looking at her, then at the bullet holes in the fridge, and going back and forth. “Oh… oh no…. No… I shouldn’t have…. I didn’t….” The man starts to raise his right arm with the gun again, moving it slowly towards his own head, but then the cashier slams the stool over the man’s head, having vaulted the counter while the robber’s distracted by Taylor.

Her ears hurt from how loud the gun going off is, and she kind of stares down at the groaning robber. The cashier grabs her arm, “Are you okay, miss? Do you need help?”

She stares at him, then finally gathers herself enough to say, “You should call the cops to arrest this man.”

The cashier nods, “Yes, of course. You’ll be okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” She leans against the counter as the cashier makes the call. She shuffles a bit, putting the food to the side. She can pay after the cops come, or something. 

She wonders if it is wrong of her to mostly just feel… irritation? If this idiot had just _looked_ at her first off, none of this garbage could happen. Instead, the idiot just shot blindly at her. What a piece of shit. 

She wants to kick the man just to make herself feel better, but she keeps herself in check.

At least the cops will get rid of the moron.

\--

Taylor kicks her feet above her head as she lays on her stomach on Ned’s back. “I am just… bored, you know?”

“Well, what would you like to do? Read?”

“We’ve read most of our books already, and the ones we haven't finished aren’t really what I’d call… entertaining.” As helpful a survival guide is, she’s not really into checking the desert section of it. It’s not like they have any plans to hang out in one. Or the cooking book where she doesn’t have the equipment it insists she needs for it.

“We can stop here and I can try teaching you hunting.”

She pokes him firmly, “You just want to laugh at my failures again.”

He shrugs, not enough to unseat her, but enough she knows he’s doing it. “Not really. If you’re bored, it means we need to figure something out. How about-”

“If we play I Spy another time, I’m gonna do a murder.”

“As much as I’d love to see you try that, it sounds like an unhealthy way to express your hatred of a game. How about we try fishing again?”

She groans, “I hate fishing, and you know it.”

“Because you insist on using a makeshift pole. You’re just handicapping yourself and….” Ned trails off, frowning, “I smell people.”

Taylor scrambles for her mask, tying it on haphazardly, and shoving Ned his at the same time, “Shi- augh! Put it on, put it on!” What she gets is her hair a mess, knotted into the mask, and Ned more using his mask as a hat than what it is actually for. 

Ned huffs, shaking his head. “They’re not _here_ yet, Taylor.” 

“If you _smell_ them, _Pariah_ , then they’re close enough we need the masks!”

That gets Ned rolling his eyes at her, and it is impressive, due to the large amount of them that he has, but he does put on the mask. “That better? I’m not sure if this will help any. What if the masks scare them off?”

“That’s why I’m here. They see you, they see me. It will be just fine.”

That gets a snort, but not an argument. Ned starts moving one way, only to turn directly around. At her curious look, he explains as he keeps walking, “Smells disgusting that way. We don’t want anything to do with it. Like an open sewage pipe, only somehow worse.”

Taylor sticks her tongue out, brow furrowed, “Gross.”

“Be glad you can’t smell it. But that’s around where the smell of humans are, but also somewhere around us? It’s kind of confusing. Sort of like….” Ned turns, looking up, “Ah. That would explain it.”

She peers up, frowning, “What the fu-”

“Hello!” A man flies down, hovering in front of them. He glances at Ned, looking conflicted before focusing almost entirely on Taylor. “I’m going to have to ask you all to hurry along. An uncontainable parahuman in a permanent breaker state is coming in this general direction, and you _must_ leave or you will die.”

Ned glances behind them, continuing to walk, if at a higher speed, “So, that’s the smell?” 

The hero - what else could he be? - nods quickly, still hovering at a matching pace. The man reaches for her, only to pull back, “Y-yes, it is. Do you think you could go faster? Mudslide is exceedingly dange-” The man’s voice is lost as Ned goes from a fast walk, to a running lope. 

Taylor tucks down, letting Ned hold her tight, and closes her eyes. At this speed, it is difficult to deal with the wind hitting her eyes, when there is no shield between her and the rushing air. Eyeglasses are not protective goggles.

The hero catches up, saying, “Okay! I’m glad you got the message! I’ll go help others!” Taylor isn’t sure why he bothers with the call of, “Goodbye!” before he rushes off, but whatever makes him happy, she guesses?

“What’s Mudslide?” she asks, knowing yelling isn’t needed as she talks to Ned when he’s going this fast. His hearing is far better than hers is.

But that’s why he’s yelling his reply to her, “Like he said, a cape who’s stuck in his breaker state! Jack always refused to let me near him, but that’s not to really limit me, it was because Jack let one of the previous members of the Nine try to recruit him!” 

The rush of the wind is almost silent in comparison to the harsh and heavy feeling of air almost picking them up from a huge chunk of what looks like a mix of crushed cars, bricks, broken wood, and twisted metal, all held together by a black and rancid smelling muck that splatters her and Ned. The smell is almost overwhelming, and she has to fight the urge to vomit. 

A fight she loses as Ned jumps to the side, and she’s lucky enough to aim for the direction he’s not going because she’s facing the morass. She awkwardly wipes her mouth with the back of her forearm, “What… what the fuck is going on?”

“Mudslide! Like I said, he’s a failed recruitment! Not because he’s dead, but because he’s more a natural disaster that always moves and never dissipates than a cape!”

Taylor’s stomach is doing somersaults as Ned holds her as close as he can while leaping above a tossed car in front of them. “I hate it,” she says, wanting to vomit again, but realizing all she’ll have is bile, and it won’t help. “I hate this a lot.”

The jerking and rolling does nothing to help, but she just clings to Ned, glad he’s here to keep her safe. She forces her eyes open, and stares into the distance, as much as she can, to hopefully ward off the worst of the forced nausea. 

It doesn’t help much, but she takes what she can get.

Only for her to be forced to close her eyes again when suddenly more noxious grime lands in front of them, hitting her with the filth and soaking her to the bone as Ned takes a sharp turn, rushing almost ninety degrees from where they were heading. “Wh-what?” she croaks, only to vomit up that bile in her stomach when the foul fluid lands on her tongue. 

“The heroes are herding him this way! Likely not to hit us, but because Mudslide was already going this way and it’s almost entirely wilderness!”

At this point, Taylor can do little other than hold on, feeling incredibly ill. She focuses on what she can, and trusts in Ned. It helps that he’s catching how sick she feels, and is talking to calm her, even as they madly dash to get away from what seems to be a less destructive North American Ash Beast.

“I once tried to see if I could fight Mudslide! And I would have taken this chance to do it!” Taylor whimpers unhappily at the thought, but one of Ned’s tentacles rubs her back calmingly, even through the tumbling and turning rush they make to escape. “But the idea of leaving you someplace where he could get you is unacceptable! Even if you _could_ be in a safe spot, then there’s the chance Mudslide could actually best me! Then where would we be? Me gone, you in some area you don’t trust! Not happening!”

She moans, grabbing a tentacle, and squeezes in what she hopes is a reassuring way, but she knows she’s far too weak and shaky to do more than a light touch. “I want you safe,” she manages, somehow.

He hops in the air, managing a large distance across a clearing. “I want you safe, too. And I’ll be-”

In the distance, there’s a loud, inhuman scream, “H̛͠͡͞U̶̸n̴Ģ̴̸͢e͘͞R̷̡͘͞,” that is followed by much more human screams at the very edge of hearing as the ground around them rumbles and shakes so hard that Ned is unfooted, landing awkwardly on the ground, only barely not squashing Taylor.

Taylor squirms out of Ned’s grasp, and rolls on the ground, whining pitifully as the ground shakes, and things crash not quite around them. She stares up at the sky, laying flat on her back, not noticing the rocks and sticks jabbing into her. 

Again, farther away this time, the rumbling scream comes, “N͟͢Ee̸̛͢D͏͞ ͜͜͝͞͝F̸̕ơ̴͝O̡̨̕͢D̶̸͢͡” the ground rumbles again and again, slowly dying away.

Eventually, there’s only the faint shaking of the ground under them, and Crawler slowly helps Taylor sit up. He carefully unties her mask, taking out sticks, and only pulling out a few strands from her hasty mess from putting it on. Brushing her off, accidentally smearing the putrid slime still covering them.

He sits down, looking at her tiredly, “I think… we get a motel today. We need hot water and just….” Ned trails off, clearly not sure what else to say.

Taylor leans against him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug, “I want to clean up, and never think of this again. What do you think?”

He nods slowly, “... sounds good to me.”

“Awesome. Let’s go find a motel, and we can sleep in actual beds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mudslide was made by my friend South, who does not have an account here.


	10. Time For Bed, A New Name, Grocery Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for a Brand New Chapter!!!!

Taylor brushes her hair, sitting on the edge of the bed. The television isn’t the most high tech, but the news report is in color, and she can see how there's a person specifically there to talk about Mudslide. “As you can see, he’s eaten most of the forest as well as taken down an entire bridge out on Park Street. You’re going to want to avoid the entire area as they work on fixing the damage. Unfortunately, he’s also taken almost half of Fairview, and has left many homeless. However, in an almost record event, there’s only been one casualty. Little Sally Anne broke her arm when one part of the tossed debris landed near her and her family. And here is Marilyn to show you just how she is.”

She stops paying attention as it cuts to an almost sickeningly adorable little girl with bright pink bows in her light brown hair, and a cast on her left arm.

Ned takes the brush from her, and works it through her hair for her, “Are you feeling better?”

She stares blankly at the wall, “Ned… we could have died.”

He sighs, sitting next to her, his head resting on the mattress, still fixing her hair. “I know.”

“That … you know how I told you about the robber, and how he had a gun, and-”

He taps her lightly on the mouth, and she takes several deep breaths, calming down slightly as he says, “I know, Taylor. I know. I can still try tracking him down and eating him for you.” At her sharp look, he chuckles, tapping under her chin, tipping it slightly up, “Joking. You don’t need to worry.” He puts a few tentacles around her, hugging her with care and affection. “You know I wouldn’t, not unless you told me to do it. Even then, I would check you for mastering.”

She sighs, leaning into his touch, eyes drifting closed, “I know.” She opens her eyes a crack, adjusting her glasses, and watches the footage of Mudslide wreaking havoc on the screen. “I know.”

He pets her sides, the brush through her hair soothing and comforting. “We’re safe, and we’re clean. We won’t ever see him again, since I’ll keep my distance if I ever smell him again.” 

Letting go of her fear, she drifts into accepting the tiredness that has been lurking all this time. She drops into a soft doze, curled within her best friend’s tentacles as she lays in the bed. He pets her hair, and smoothes her pajamas so she’s more comfortable.

Soon, they are both asleep.

\--

Taylor is leaning on the wall of a gas station as Ned picks out snacks for them. It’s pretty amazing just how little a gas station attendant cares about things, but she’s grateful for it. She can’t imagine how much worse this all could be, if retail workers actually cared about anything.

She taps into the cellphone, sending a text to Kid Flame. The ward is rather nice, and has some good ideas. Which can be nice, but unfortunately…

The cell rings, and she sighs as she answers it, “You know, you can just text back. Not call me.”

“Nah! I like talking to you!”

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t stop her smile. “Well, that’s good, since I like talking to you, too.” She glances into the windows of the gas station, watching Ned saunters through the chips. “So, what did you think of the name?”

“Pariah isn’t any good,” KF replies instantly.

“Yeah, I know, it was just the best of what we could come up with.”

“What were some of the others?”

She runs through the list, tugging the little notebook out, to make sure she has the names right. As she does this, she keeps glancing up to watch Ned. He spots her, and holds up two chip bags. She tilts her head, thinking on the choice, then points to the blue bag. She likes wavy potato chips, and she knows Ned will get a good dip.

Once she’s done with the names, Kid Flame hums softly, clearly thinking. There’s the sound of fingers on a keyboard, the girl saying, “Yeah, I see why you didn’t go with most of those. But how about Penitent instead? It fits very well with your naming theme. The Innocent and The Penitent.”

She blinks, “That’s… really good.”

That gets cheerful laughter, “Aren’t you glad I called to suggest it, then?” Taylor can almost see Kid Flame winking and grinning at her.

“You could have easily told me in a text.”

“But I’d only have emojis to use to know if you genuinely liked it. This way, I get to hear your voice, and how you’re… warming to it.”

She sighs, shaking her head, “You’re stretching for that pun. Maybe try contacting Mouse Protector for better ones.”

“Nah. She’s independent, so I’d have to hire her, rather than go through the PRT channels.”

“Well, it isn’t like she’s the most difficult person to contact, if you want help.”

“Yeah, but Terricade will be all, ‘Kid Flame, you must behave like a proper Ward!’ then chastise me for talking to you. And like, let me tell you, she’s so straight laced and boring!” The girl goes into her rant about how boring being a Ward is, since Terricade keeps her out of pretty much every fight.

Taylor is almost certain that’s how it is _supposed_ to be with Wards, but telling the girl that doesn’t help. It seems that she really wants to fight, and it is frustrating she’s only allowed to get into spars. Granted, Taylor isn’t much help, since her comment about how Brockton Bay had Wards fighting meant poor Kid Flame only got a lecture on how Brockton Bay is being run by a Director who hates all capes.

It isn’t ideal.

Pretty soon, Kid Flame has to get off the phone, and Ned comes out with some bags. He scoops her up as she turns off her cell, and he says, “Got you some overpriced jerky.”

She digs through the bag, pulling out a bag that weighs a fair amount, “Wow, it looks good.”

“It was the last of the pearwood smoked stuff, and your dad said to get you something enjoyable.”

“Well,” she takes a bite, “I t’ink it ish.”

“Eat, then talk.” He heads out, “What do you think, should we make some of our own? Maybe in a different process than the stuff you have right now.”

“Maybe.” She chews on some more, saying absently, “Do you think we should go further south? I mean, we’ve been going north for awhile. … maybe west?” She hums, thinking, “We should probably be in Canada, if my calculations are right.”

“That _was_ a Krogers, Taylor.”

She huffs, shoving some jerky into one of his tentacles for him to eat, “There are some in the US, Ned! It is not just in Canada!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He pokes her, picking up a bit more speed, “But we’ll know for damn sure we’re in Canada, if we see a Tim Horton’s.”

Rolling her eyes, Taylor just pokes him in response.

\--

Taylor runs her newly washed hands over a very lovely and fluffy dress as a sales associate stands next to her, chattering about silk, lace, and various gems and jewels. She shakes her head, “No, I don’t think I can. As lovely as it is, it is just too short to even try on. It wouldn’t hit more than my knees.”

The woman next to her, and older lady with curled grey hair and a nametag informing Taylor she’s Wendy, says kindly, “It would look _very_ cute with the matching stockings, dear.”

She stares at the cute silken stockings, topped with a pretty bow on each, but has to shake her head, “Better not.” She’d get it filthy. She needs a shower before that. She just wasn’t expecting to suddenly be swept up to go from looking up through the window to inside to touch. Not that she isn’t taking advantage; she just doesn’t want the woman fired for letting a wild woman try on what is clearly the most expensive item in the shop.

“Are you sure?”

She smiles, “I am, thank you, Wendy.” Patting the woman’s hand, she says “Maybe another time.” She can use her YMCA membership, get cleaned, and so on. Which is, in fact, the plan. 

No matter how tempting new clothing is, she knows it is smarter not to spend a large chunk of their available funds on something so expensive. 

“Well, if you do, I’d love to have you come,” Wendy informs her. “Always so nice to talk to such a sweet girl who can appreciate a good dress.”

She smiles back, and starts to head to the door, “It is truly lovely. Thank you for letting me see it up close.”

“Of course,” Wendy’s voice is cheerful as she waves Taylor out.

Walking out, she checks the map on her phone, and soon enough she’s at the YMCA, getting showered and clean. When done, she even takes the time to make her hair just a little better than usual, and changes what she’s wearing into a nice clean outfit. She frowns at the ruffled top that ends at her belly, which is more fit than it’s been for awhile. All this walking in the woods, and eating weird things is surprisingly easy to make that belly fat drop. Sure, she still has a tiny bit of one, but organs are more important than a perfectly flat tummy. 

And it does look fine with her leggings under a to the knee skirt. She poses a little in the mirror, spinning to make the skirt flare, and it makes her grin. The bag matches well enough, so she feels just fine heading out in her usual boots. It only works so well, and she’s not wearing a coat, all due to how unseasonably warm it is right now. She’s kind of surprised there isn’t any snow, even though it is February. 

Striding out, she debates where it is best to go now. She needs to pick up some seasonings, so grocery store. She’s on a budget, but it isn’t too terrible, and it will work out. So a glance at her cell’s map has her heading easily into a grocery store. 

Humming softly as she walks, she smiles and waves at various people who look at her. Several women laugh and smile back, the men generally do the same, but a few are a bit too interested. As such, she stops trying to draw attention to herself, and hurries along. Sure, her power will make _sure_ she’s safe, but years of knowing attention will hurt her is ingrained. She’s doing better, being safer, but it still makes her worried.

She’s glad when she gets to the store, and can pick up a basket. The aisles feel odd to her, but she heads to the right instantly, and metaphorically lands almost face first into a pile of apples. The display is large, and garish, and claims that the fruit they’re encouraging her to buy is twenty-nine cents a pound.

It truly would be a steal; if only it wasn’t red delicious, the very worst of any apple.

She keeps going, and finds herself adding grapes and a very cheap two pound bag of carrots into her basket. She stares a little longingly at the display of mangoes, only to shake her head. As good as they might be, she’s not spending a dollar per mango. Off season and all, she’ll survive. 

It doesn’t stop her from staring at them longingly before turning away and walking to the next section. She pauses at the sight of a cart full of clearance items, then starts to go through them. She’s not going to eat crunchy breadsticks, and the bakery items are pricey at just a dollar off the listed price, but she picks up two of the cans of root beer. She’s not sure if she’ll like it, but they’re cheap. At the worst, Ned will eat the cans.

She sighs as she looks at the big box of croissants in the table full of bakery goods next to the cart, but forces herself to move on. It’s just that making baked goods is never the easiest on a campfire, so it isn’t exactly common for them to have it. The bread isn’t even around here for some reason, but she’ll find it eventually. The idea of cheap sliced bread has her perk up, and she goes searching down the store for more things. 

Stopping in front of condiments, she debates back and forth before buying some mustard and ketchup. As she reaches for it, she almost bumps into a woman who is standing next to her, and she smiles brightly, saying, “Excuse me. Thank you,” as she takes the mustard from in front of the woman.

She’s about to step away when the woman touches her arm, “Oh, nothing to worry about, dear. You look half starved, you should try the good brats in the meat section.”

She shakes her head, knowing that whatever is being suggested will need to be eaten fast, and she’s truly having more than enough meat with Ned going hunting for food for them. “I’m fine, thank you.” 

“Really, you look so hungry!”

“I’m fine,” she insists, and moves away, “don’t worry about me.” 

She heads away, just a little faster than she normally would, and looks at the cereals, humming throughtfully, only to pause when a man stops beside her, saying, “So, you were looking at these,” and he holds the croissants in the box up, “How about I get this for you?”

“No, thank you,” she says carefully. “I don’t need it. Thank you.”

“I could really help-”

“Thank you,” she says, a little more forcefully, “I’m fine. Please, return that, because I don’t need help.”

The man looks confused, but nods and wanders away. She stares after him with a frown, and then pauses when she gets to the next aisle. There are several people there, and about two of them wander over to her, looking happy. It wouldn't be so bad, but said people are actually children. They hurry away from their parents, and one even puts a hand on her skirt, “Hi! You’re pretty!”

“Ah, thank you?” She glances at the families, saying, “Did you need something?”

“Nah, I just wanted to say hi,” the other child says, smiling up at her. “I like your hair.”

She’s about to thank the kids again when the parents come over, the mom scooping the one touching her up, “Ah! Sorry about that! Normally she’s usually incredibly shy around strangers! I’m not sure why she’s doing this.”

At this point, she has a kind of sinking feeling, realizing what this is about. She’s not sure _why_ her powers seem especially powerful at the moment, but she smiles weakly at the parents, “It’s fine. I’ll just… be on my way. You have a good day.”

“You, too!” they say, leading their children off as Taylor hurries off, and makes her way to the front to pay. Thankfully, no one else interrupts her as she does, and she can pay in peace. The price seems a little low, but she’s mostly just focused on leaving. 

Hurrying off, she makes her way back to Ned. She’s stopped a few times by worried looking people, but each of them don’t look like they’re doing more than worrying if she’s okay. Which is understandable, since a glance at a reflection in one of the windows shows that she does look stressed and unhappy. And since her power encourages others to care about her, it makes sense they want to comfort her when she looks near tears. 

She just wants to know why her powers are acting up, and she wants to be with Ned for comfort. Thankfully, when she’s at the edge of town, Ned hurries over to her, and picks her up to wrap her in a hug. He starts walking, Taylor on his back, “You’re looking nice now. What’s wrong?”

She leans on him, “For some reason people were acting super weird around me when I was shopping.” She describes what went on, and finishes with, “I didn’t even get to check on the bread.”

He pets her back, “Seems weird to me, so I don’t know. How about you talk about before that? Talk to me about your time away.” When she recounts that, he chuckles.

Crossing her arms, she scowls at him, “It’s not funny.”

“I think, Taylor, the reason your power did that was because you were confident. You’re looking nice, so you were excited and didn’t cower. Your power seems to work best when you feel better. I’ve felt it, and-”

“What! Ned, You shouldn’t be so cavalier with yourself if that’s happening! I’m probably super dangerous-”

He taps her mouth with a tentacle, shushing her, “Nope. You’re fine. It’s most likely they thought that since you came to the store, and were leaving things even when you wanted them, then they should help you, keeping you safer and not hungry. Don’t worry about it, okay? We’ll keep it in mind, and not worry.”

She tucks her knees under her chin, “I should get rid of this outfit.”

“It’s fine. Keep it. Don’t let your worry get the best of you. If you like how it looks, you should keep wearing it.” He pets her hair, “Now that you’ve figured it out, you don’t need to freak out about it. Besides, maybe next time, you’ll get another friend out of it. Like you did with Kid Flame.”

She smiles, “I guess that happened with her, yeah. And KF is just fine and not hurting due to my powers. Okay, thank you, Ned.”

He pets her head, “Good. Now, show me the root beer you got us. I want to try it.”

Laughing, she does just that.


	11. A Brand New Friend

She’s working on a muff to stick her hands in, since she can’t really figure out how to easily make pockets on her costume, and her fingers get cold. The rabbit fur is soft and warm under her fingertips as she sews, and she listens as Ned reads a book to her. 

“‘Why do you wear a mask and hood?’ ‘I think everybody will in the near future,’ was the man in black's reply. ‘They're terribly comfortable.’” Ned stops suddenly, looking around, “Well…. That’s… interesting.”

She looks up, “What is...?”

“Sirens.”

She blinks, “What do you mean?”

He holds her tight, “Put on your mask, Innocent.” She reaches for it, fumbling a bit as he rushes towards where the town is, not too far away, “We have an Endbringer to fight.”

“What?” She asks, almost dropping the muff, but managing to shove it and the sewing into a bag.

“That bastard always pitched a tantrum if I said I wanted to fight an Endbringer.”

“I know,” she says, tugging out her mask, and awkwardly tying it to her forehead. She’ll shove it under her glasses when they’re no longer running. “Fuck Jack Slash!”

“Fuck Jack Slash,” Penitent echoes gleefully. “And it is just in time for fighting the Simurgh!”

She yelps a bit as he vaults a fence. “Is this why you insisted we need to hang around a town for the last two weeks?” she almost shrieks. “You could have fucking told me!”

“You might have said no!”

“You’re my _friend_ , Ned! I’m not that asshole! I’d have happily said yes!”

He doesn’t slow his run, but does sound regretful, “I’m sorry, Taylor. I should have realized. You’ve been nothing but encouraging when I talk about fighting things. I just assumed that you’d say no.”

“Well, I’m _not_ ,” she grumbles, poking him.

“But you might if I tell you what I want.”

She sighs, “What is it?”

“I want you to remain out of the fight entirely.”

“What? No!”

“Taylor, part of your power is the need to _protect_ you. If you’re on the field, then you may have people distracted when they need to take down Ziz.”

“I can do search and rescue,” she insists. “I’ll be able to find-”

“Taylor, please?” She quiets down, a weight settling in her stomach. He continues softly, “If I lose you, I don’t know what I’d do. The truce is in effect, so no one will try anything with you, and they can’t refuse me. Just, please? Stay in a safe place and wait for me. I will fight for fifteen minutes, and then return to you.”

She wraps her arms around herself, one hand holding one of his tentacles, “I… I could help.”

“Not with your power, Taylor.”

She tucks her legs under her better, going into a sort of awkward ball, “I just… I could help.”

“Help in support, then. Not near the Simurgh, and not in search and rescue. I’ll make sure that you’re near the medical people.”

She nods, reluctant, “Okay. I’ll help like that.” She pokes him, heart not in it enough to really be chastising, “I won’t be put in an Endbringer shelter.”

“Those don’t really work with the Simurgh, anyway,” he says, sounding amused. “Now, let’s-” 

Suddenly, there is a cut on Ned’s back, right next to Taylor’s left hand, almost destroying a bag strap. She manages to snatch her hand away, and Ned grabs the bag before it can fall off. Jerking around, she stares in confusion at Jack Slash, who is being held by the Siberian. The naked woman stares at her, head tilted in confusion, while Jack aims at them again. 

Mannequin is hanging a bit further back, Bonesaw on his shoulders, and standing in an entirely confused way. Bonesaw, however, is clapping her hands excitedly, saying something Taylor is certain she is going to be glad she’s too far away to hear. 

Ned hurries with his running, and Taylor holds onto him tightly. She knows he won’t let her fall, but that thought is still very much there, just from sheer terror. It does _not_ help that she can hear something gaining on them. Part of her is screaming in terror, but she forces herself to look back and see what all is going on. And it is…

Mannequin running after them like one of the angels from Neon Genesis Evangelion. 

What.

Mannequin doesn’t have Bonesaw on him, though, and a straining look behind the tinker shows that Jack is waving his arms at the Siberian, while the Siberian is holding Bonesaw. But it isn’t more than a vague glimpse, and they’re now well out of sight, lost in the trees. Which is good, even if they’re still being chased by a deeply unsettling puppet of a man. 

When Mannequin gets in touching range, instead of grabbing Taylor, the man makes a fist with one hand, then a gesture like a shadow puppet bird with two hands. For some reason, that makes Ned slow down to a fast trot instead of a frantic run. 

“What’s going on?” she asks, flinching when Mannequin looks directly at her, still keeping pace.

“He’s joining us to fight the Simurgh. Like he’s been wanting to, right?” That gets a nod, and Ned continues, “So, we need to head to the town, like we were planning. You’ll be taking care of the wounded that comes in, right Taylor?”

She’s about to snap at him, insulted he thinks she forgot or will try to weasel out of it for search and rescue, but she glances at Mannequin, who looks weirdly attentive. This must be for him. So, instead, she puts on her big girl pants, and acts _civil_ , damn it. “Right. I know some first aid, and more hands won’t hurt when it comes to that.”

Mannequin makes a series of gestures, and Ned explains, “He didn’t bring Bonesaw, since that would end up with Jack following us, even if she’d be happy to fix people. Personally, I think it’s pushing it for me and Alan to both show up, since people freak out about the Nine. While _I_ may have quit, Alan hasn’t, and-”

More gestures, and she’s feels lost. He isn’t very… intelligible to her. Like, she understands the birdy gesture is wings or a bird, since it looks like that, but the series of gestures leaves her grasping at straws. Thankfully, Ned knows, and is willing to translate.

“He’s quitting the Nine to join us.” Ned sounds weirdly smug, “He thinks I’ve got the right idea, joining you instead.”

She blinks, looking at Mannequin, “You don’t even know _why_ he’s with me.” 

Since Ned says he’s joining, she pays closer attention to what Mannequin is doing. Crossed arms with fists, jerking back and forth, the fist and bird again, followed by four fingers and a gesture with one hand in front and the other hand making an explosion gesture, then what can only be an L in sign language and three spread fingers tapping to where his mouth should be.

“I’m not with her to fight the endbringers,” Ned snaps irritably. 

More crossed arms with fists, only no weird pushing motion.

“Yeah, I’m protecting her.”

Mannequin looks thoughtful at that, which is weird when there are no features on that face other than vague indentions. It’s in the body language. Doubly impressive, since they’re still at a full tilt run towards the nearest PRT Headquarters. It’s a little easier once they’re on a road and rushing to the building. Ned even grabs Mannequin, shoves him on his large back, and ups the speed.

It’s a little unnerving to have what feels like a hard and crazy puppet hugging her waist, holding almost unnaturally still. She’s clearly safer like this, though. There’s significantly less chance of her toppling over even as Ned takes several sharp corners, and even does a hairpin turn at one point.

Once they get in, Ned says loudly, “We’re here to fight the Simurgh!”

There’s a small pause from one of the heroes there, who blinks at them. “...Oh.” The man bites his lower lip, looking at them, “This is a truce, and-”

“They want to fight the Simurgh,” Taylor says, voice a little strained. Mannequin’s grip is tightening on her, as if he’s debating moving her to a safer spot, like how Ned does sometimes. “I’m here to help being an extra set of hands in medical. My powers aren’t much good for fighting, and would possibly hinder search and rescue.”

The hero nods once, sharply, “I see.” The man waves them along, “Come on up, the teleporter will be here the moment we call you in. No one else is going to be fighting here, so it’s just you three.”

“Innocent can stay here,” the hero says, while Taylor can _see_ how Ned agrees! Ned is nodding along, looking pleased.

She’s not having that, at all!

“No,” she snaps, scowling at her best friend. “I’m coming with, and that’s that. You don’t get to leave me behind. You said I could, so I am.”

The hero looks uncomfortable as they walk further into the building, “It is known how you’re not yet a legal adult, Innocent. If you have written permission from your father filed, I can have it pulled up?”

Fuck.

Okay, she can deal with this. “I’m not _fighting_ the Simurgh, though. I just want to be an extra set of hands in the medical, so I can help. I won’t even be near her, so I should be going.”

The man shakes his head, “That’s not how these things work. I’m sorry. It would be different if this were the city you make your home in, but it isn’t. The attack is going to be in Canberra, and it is all the more unallowed due to it not being on American soil. In fact, I should refuse Crawler and Mannequin, but the truce is on, and they are legally adults.”

“I want to help!” She also wants to argue about how Ned isn’t Crawler anymore, either, but that will just make things take _longer_.

“You can help when you’re old enough,” he informs her. “I can’t allow a minor to run into what is widely considered the most dangerous Endbringer, much less when the teenager has a power that could be exploited by the Simurgh if she gets close.”

“But I _won’t_ be near her. The medical section wouldn’t be close by, and-”

“That, right there, would be something you’d think is happening, but we can’t have the teleporters go too far away. Not everyone is Strider.”

“We’re wasting time,” she only barely manages to keep her voice calm, knowing wailing will just make it worse. 

The man looks at her, then at Penitent and Mannequin, “You two may leave, just head up the elevator. But you,” he looks directly at Taylor, “Miss Innocent, you are _not_ allowed to go unless I have the files or written permission.”

“All I want to do is help in-!” Taylor cuts herself off. Looking at Ned and Mannequin, she points at the elevator, “You two, go.” When they do, she closes her eyes, takes a calming breath, and asks, as politely as she can to the hero, “I just want to help with the medical, why can’t I?”

“Aside from age and permission? Which really should be enough of a reason?” At her nod, he sighs, “The medical section is out of where the Simurgh usually is, yes, but she’s been known to move to wherever is the least helpful. We’ve lost people doing healing before. While she’s more well known for using tinkertech, the Simurgh has used Stranger’s powers against them. You’re a Stranger/Master that doesn’t seem to have much control over your power. It may seem harmless, but we know your power means that people can’t hurt you. What if she grabs you, and uses you as a way to stop them from attacking her?”

As much as she hates to admit it, the man has a point. 

She will only hurt if she shows up, no matter how deeply unfair it is to her. “Okay.” She drops her head, staring at the ground, “Is there someplace I can wait for when Ne-Penitent will be back?” She pauses, glancing after the newest addition to their group, “And Mannequin.”

He pats her lightly on the back, “I’ll call one of the Wards to keep you company.”

She nods, leaning on the wall unhappily as she waits. Before long, a boy in a brown suit with some large not really butterfly wings on his back that is about her age shows up with a bright smile, “Hello! I’m Titanio. I’m told you’re waiting for your teammates to return?” 

“Yeah.” She looks at the elevator longingly, then turns away. “So, what do we do now?”

“First, we go pick up all the bags your partners left, and then we can wait in one of the common areas. Since, while the truce _is_ happening, you’re not exactly… uh... “

“Yeah, I’m not trustworthy since my best friend used to be in the Slaughterhouse Nine.” Since of course. It isn’t like Ned wasn’t too damned young and Jack got his filthy hands on him. Oh no, Ned’s terrible, even though he’s her best friend and protects and cares for her deeply. Nope, he’s forever untrustworthy.

Titanio shrugs, the weird wings on his back fluttering, “And that you have a kind of worrying power, I think? No one was really clear to us Wards what your power is.”

Ah, _they’re_ forever untrustworthy, then. Not just Ned.

Whatever.

“I make people want to protect me,” she says flatly, as they head through to the elevator. It’s surprisingly fast, and she’s finishing her sentence as they walk out of it. But she barely notices, mostly fixating on the sight of the bags and things on the floor, piled haphazardly. She sighs, looking at it, and starts searching through it for some things. It’s far too heavy to just carry on her own. 

Unless… 

She looks at Titanio, “So… do you have super strength with what I’m assuming is flight?”

“Ah… no.” The boy shrugs at her, “Just my changer mid-state how it is right now. I could get our brute?”

“Would you? I can’t carry all of this.” She waves, almost helplessly, at the bags. “I do need them to be careful, though. It is all we own, and losing it would be… bad.”

The boy glances at it, eyes lingering on an iron pan and a camp stove. “Understandable. I’ll make sure she realizes that.” He smiles at her warmly, “Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

She smiles back, but it’s strained. It’s clear the boy is nice, but she’s too upset about not being able to go, and too worried about Ned. What if he’s hurt and the Simurgh manages to hurt him so badly he dies? What if that happens, and all she has is Mannequin? A person she’s still kind of freaked out about, and only just met less than an hour ago? Even if Mannequin takes Ned’s spot if that happens, what can she-

She closes her eyes tightly, wraps her arms around herself, and takes a deep breath. 

It’ll be okay.

It has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all I have written so far! 
> 
> Who knows what I'll upload in the Worm fandom next? Certainly not me!


End file.
